I Dream of Blood
by as much fun as holding a gun
Summary: Sequel to I Dream of Fangs. Set after Vampire: The Masquerade plotline. Lacroix X OC. Rated M because I'm afraid of the man.
1. And it Begins

Today was Sebastian Lacroix's funeral. It said so in the Los Angeles Times, on the front page: One of LA's Finest Entrepreneur's Funeral Today

Problem was, Sebastian wasn't dead.

The bomb lodged in the Ankaran Sarcophagus had been set off in Sebastian's office, to his horror, but luckily enough not by him. We guessed that it had been set off by Elijah in his absence. I guess Elijah was greedier than he let on.

I had spent days pleading with Sebastian to leave the city and not pursue the sarcophagus, but he had refused to listen, and one day when I walked in, the ugly ancient box sat in his office. I had no idea why Sebastian was constantly staring at it, touching it, practically fucking making love to it with his eyes. Okay, I might have been a little jealous of it. In my defense though, from the first day it was hauled in the expansive office, he had acted completely differently than I had ever seen him.

It was like the Sarcophagus was his heroin. If only one could inject a large ancient box into their veins.

If Elijah had not opened it in his absence, well, let's just say this would be the end of that story. We had been driving downtown just a block away when it was set off, and the ground had shaken with the force of the explosion. As we sat in the luxury vehicle, staring up at the Lacroix building in a plume of flame in stunned silence, I had the urge to say told you so.

Good thing I didn't because if you'd thought Lacroix was moody before his building was blown up... now it was like he was on a constant man-period.

I guess I could understand. Losing everything you own, your business, and being pronounced dead all in the same week? Pretty rough if you ask me. But then again, I'm pretty biased.

Sebastian ultimately decided to go off the radar to get both the crazy Church of Leopold people, and the media off his back. His story was so big that it hit the national news. Even he probably wouldn't have been able to talk, or dominate himself out of a trial for killing Bach's daughter. I never thought I'd see the day Sebastian Lacroix couldn't talk himself out of something. I mean, the guy could talk himself out of a room with no doors.

Despite his obvious depression, Sebastian still found a way to constantly busy himself as usual. He was still the Prince of the Camarilla after all. I think he clung to that title now harder than ever.

It had been nearly a week since then when I finally was spoken to. He had sulked in his room of the safehouse until nearly dawn every day. Just when I thought maybe he had killed himself in there or something, he finally emerged, and his look of absolute depression had lightened slightly.

I held the newspaper up for him to see, where I was laying on the couch.

"I wish my death had been on the front page of a newspaper," I said.

He glanced at it, saying nothing as he walked past the couch, his expression bored.

I frowned, and stuck my head over the side of the couch.

"I have some business to attend to after sunset. You are expected to join me," he walked into the kitchen, got a blood pack out of the fridge and filled a wine glass with it. He swirled it around like it was a fine beverage instead of someone's insides.

He was fully dressed in his usual suit and tie ensemble, and my first thought was that maybe we would be doing something exciting. I wasn't sure how I felt about that. Though I'd sat around in the safe house for days now doing positively nothing, I felt a bit apprehensive about going out into the vampire world again. It seemed like every time we turned around, someone was trying to kill us.

"Can I ask what we're doing?" I asked.

Sebastian seemed to read my mind.

"We're relocating to the penthouse apartment," he said nonchalantly, sipping his blood. I quirked an eyebrow at the casual response. Like everyone has a penthouse and it shouldn't be a huge deal. What's next, an extended vaycay on the yacht? Actually, that sounded pretty good...

He didn't seem to notice my inner turmoil, or, if he did, he didn't seem too eager to ease it. He had propped himself up against the kitchen island, not really facing me, just staring at the wall.

I thought that perhaps he intended for me to move in with him. I wanted to ask him but I couldn't get the words to come out.

I decided we didn't need another conversation like this again, not so soon, and not with him so spacey and obviously depressed. I leaned back into the sofa. It was unorthodox, and completely unexpected to move in with him now, if that was what he had meant. I wasn't sure what to think about it, so I tried to reserve judgement.

As we headed to the penthouse I got more and more fidgety. I began counting things in my nervousness, thinking maybe it could keep my mind off moving in with Sebastian. I counted the number of stars I could see out the window of the car, the number of hairs I could see on Sebastian's 5 o'clock shadow, the number of times I had cussed in my head in the past 24 hours. In short, I was acting like a crazy mathematician, and I didn't even like math.

Sebastian eyed me warily from the other side of the luxury Hummer. He seemed to be wrestling with whether he should begin to broach the subject of my insanity or just allow me to act insane.

We pulled up to a typical LA high rise apartment building, except it was anything but typical. It was obviously designed for the mega wealthy. There were gargoyles with lion heads out front in marble. The doors were painted in bright red, but everything surrounding them was stark white. As I climbed out of the car I couldn't help but feel extremely out of place, as I had the entire time I was staying in one of Sebastian's apparently many living arrangements.

I thanked the driver for opening the door for me, smiling at him. He gave me a smile back, and it made me feel marginally better.

Sebastian strode towards the door, pulling it open like he had done it a million times. I hung back, slipping in after him.

To say the place was impressive would be a vast understatement. Important looking people walked around with important looking faces on. Everyone was a flash of suits around me. I looked down at my sweat shirt and jeans, the only clothing I had at the moment, and tried hard to blend into the wall behind us.

A familiar looking woman intercepted Sebastian as he was heading towards the elevators. I felt my stomach drop into my feet as I recognized her. It was Jenine, or Jenny or whatever. That bitch from the party. The woman he had probably snogged in the past.

He slowed his mad dash to greet her. She smiled at him, commenting on his funeral and how nice it had been. Her fangs were shiny and white.

She glanced towards me, and I could almost feel her brain working around, trying to figure out who I was. I certainly looked different than I had the night of the party. Probably more like a homeless person. The way she was staring at me, I felt like I may need some holy water. Isn't there a church right around the corner, I thought absently, I'll just be right back... I nearly groaned aloud when I realized this probably meant she lived here too.

"Oh do forgive me," She crooned, "I did not notice your... daughter, was it?"

Sebastian handled her sarcasm smoothly, as I suspected he would.

"My childe actually, of no relation," he said in a dismissive tone. He looked at his watch, clearly trying to end the conversation in a way that wasn't rude.

She smiled again at me, and I couldn't help myself from leaning back away. It was a predatory smile, a clearly fake smile, oozing with death.

"Anyway, Sebastian," she turned back to him as if I had left the room or something, "we should arrange a lunch date."

Sebastian's eyes glazed over with what I could only assume was lust. I wished he'd look at me that way. I suppressed the feeling of jealousy and irritation. I was careful to keep my expression neutral and stop myself from doing something stupid like biting my lip like the last time we'd met.

I held my breath, wondering what he would say.

"Jenibelle, you and I both know that I no longer can present myself in public with the given situation."

She gave him a small pout, but didn't press the issue further.

As we got into the elevators, Sebastian shot me an apologetic look, or maybe it was concern that was gleaming in his eyes. I couldn't tell. The elevator closed and he turned to me and said, "I believe Jenibelle intends to kill you."

I missed seeing which button he pressed to go to our floor because of the monologue of panic-stricken cussing in my head.

"Why do you say that?" I asked in a high pitched voice. The kind of voice that women on cheesy horror flicks have when they meet the monster and are on the verge of screaming. Except this was no movie, and I couldn't just leave the theater.

"We have had an... encounter in the past," he said hesitantly.

I gave him a flat look, "you had sex with her."

He stared at me, "A bit... more than that."

I glanced around the elevator trying to think of what exactly he could mean by that.

He sighed, defeated, "She is my ex-wife."

The elevator chimed and he got off, leaving me stunned, just standing there. The elevator doors began to close before I recovered and got off.

I supposed I couldn't blame him, and at least he'd told me and been truthful, but I'd nearly shit my pants in fear. This chick was beautiful and evidently powerful, and extremely...pissy. I just couldn't believe I was already in danger again. So much for relaxing in the penthouse.

I was so deep in thought that I nearly ran into Sebastian as he stopped to unlock the door, which was the only door on the entire floor, to the penthouse.

As soon as we entered, the negative thoughts in my head ceased. A small house could fit into this one room! The entryway was completely bare of furniture, save for a large glass chandelier that hung from the ceiling. The floors were polished, much in the same way as his office had once been before it had been engulfed in flame.

The entryway led directly into the foyer, also decorated sparsely, with just an expensive looking coffee table and chairs. It looked like a king's palace and I immediately felt uncomfortable.

As I began wandering inside, I realized Sebastian had been watching my reaction closely, and he was now following me, hands behind his back. My eyes immediately landed on a large tapestry that hung from the wall, one of the few things in the entire apartment.

He followed my gaze, which wasn't hard to notice, since to look at the thing, I had to crane my neck all the way back. It was huge, nearly engulfing half the enormous wall.

"It's an heirloom," Sebastian said.

I turned to smile at him, "Its very beautiful."

It depicted what looked like a queen or a woman of another high stature as evidenced by the throne she was sitting on. She was surrounded by people who were handing her things. One was giving her cloth, another a baked pie. It was amusingly fitting for Lacroix, but I think the thing that stuck out the most to me was the woman's face. Her expression was one of exasperated boredom, and it was a look I had seen on him many times.

I didn't say that though.

The rest of the penthouse looked quite the same. There was a master suite that I peeked into, and quickly averted my path. I heard a small scoff of amusement come from Lacroix behind me, who was still following me. I saw him shake his head out of the corner of my eye.

It was odd, I thought, that he was not leading, not showing off, or going into long monologues about each room.

There was a kitchen with highly outdated appliances, some of which I assumed probably didn't even work they were so old. I opened the refrigerator, stopping a moment to admire the detailed work it took to make the snarky brass handle, and found it full of packs of blue blood.

There was a second bedroom and I assumed that was where I would be staying, an office, which looked like it was the only part of the house that got any type of use at all. Typical. And finally there was a bathroom, fit with a very inviting looking cast-iron clawfoot tub. Everything was immaculately clean.

When I had finished my tour in the bathroom, I turned around to find Sebastian still following me. The bathroom was large but it suddenly felt constrictive and tight with both of us in it and him blocking the entrance.

"So..." I said hesitantly when several seconds had passed and he didn't say anything, "Is this where you live?"

He nodded, "Yes, although, I only used to visit perhaps once a month."

Translation: Yes, although no because I used to live in my office.

He must have been thinking along the same lines, because at the thought of his office, he frowned. I figured I'd better distract him quickly before he got into a terrible mood again.

"Its so beautiful. Everything looks like it has a story, its so old..." I trailed off as I realized that might have offended him. "I mean, it's great, I used to love antiques and history and... all of that..." I amended quietly.

He nodded again and more horrible awkward silence shrouded us.

"Perhaps we should talk about my... association... with Jenibelle," he said.

I had nearly forgotten. He was eyeing me expectantly.

"Okay," I said, "We probably should."

I followed him out of the bathroom and into the foyer with a sigh of relief to be out of the cramped space. We sat opposite one another in the red scratchy chairs that bordered the coffee table.

He stared at the coffee table for a moment and cleared his throat and I had the inane urge to begin fidgeting.

"I met Jenibelle many years ago, certainly before you were born, although I cannot suffice to say the exact date. She was one of many of my colleagues working on a particularly arduous takeover of another corporation."

His eyes were glazed over again, with that same aggravating look he'd had downstairs, lost in a memory.

"She was the first woman I had ever considered worthy of my respect," he glanced at me, "In my time, you understand, women were not quite on the same...intellectual level as they are today..."

"I was young. Stupid. I thought I knew her well enough to..." He trailed off, and I could see where it was going, "Anyway,we separated after her final episode of whore mongering."

I raised my eyebrows and choked back a peal of laughter at his interesting choice of words. Perhaps that was why he was so insecure and hesitant in our non-existent relationship.

"I didn't know that vampires married or divorced," I admitted.

"The intelligent ones do not," he spat, "It is a pathetic attempt for us to be human when we so clearly aren't. It is called a blood bond but according to the Camarilla legally it is the same as a human marriage."

His honesty and malice regarding the topic was scary, and it made my chest constrict.

"Do you believe that vampires can love at all?" I asked, glancing up at his face and instantly regretting it. I was unable to look away from the pain in his aristocratic features. I had never quite seen him with an expression like that before.

"No," he said, his voice serious and cold, "We are not equipped to do so. What I thought was love, I know now is lust."

I took a deep breath, willing away the sick feeling I had. This was the first deep conversation we'd ever really had, and it was going horribly. Maybe it was best if we changed the subject a bit, "What should I do about Jenibelle?"

He shook his head, "You cannot fight her." He looked up and down at my body uneasily as if I were a sick and dying animal that may need to be put down.

I snorted, "Yeah, I know better than that."

He raised his eyebrows quizzically at me, "I have never heard a lady make that noise," he said simply.

I picked a small piece of fuzz off my jeans.

"Any how," he cleared his throat, "I suggest you avoid her."

"Why is she so mad at me anyway?"

He gripped the base of his nose and closed his eyes, "She...is... I've never any kind of luck understanding her, but perhaps it is the power. Believing that I did in fact embrace you, she may think I will leave the role of prince to you, whereas before now it was hers for the taking upon my real death."

"Why would she think that you would leave it to me?" I laughed at the thought. I didn't know shit about vampire politics and everyone knew it.

"That is typically the role of the childe. Why do you think every vampire within listening distance is so enamoured with you? They have no idea why I would take, well honestly, a mere peasant as my childe," he looked amused, as if the whole thing was a funny inside joke. And I guess it kind of was, because...

"But they don't know that you aren't really my sire."

"They will not find out about your past," he said, his voice haughty and confident, "I've made sure of that."

I shook my head, squinting at the shiny floors."Why would you do that? It doesn't make any sense. I have no real ties to you. Why do you want them to think I am your childe?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper,

He stared at me for a long time without answering, and then he abruptly changed the subject.


	2. Just a Dream

A/N: Sorry about the delay. I'm having a really hard time getting to work. Not sure why...

* * *

><p>Sebastian never answered me that night, and the rest of our conversation was a blur of tired small talk. Shortly after, we went to bed in our respective rooms. Well I at least tried to. I couldn't sleep in the unfamiliar guest bedroom for many hours. I watched the clock turn to almost noon before drifting to sleep.<p>

"_Leave us," a familiar voice ordered, French accented and very demanding. His hands were settled behind his back and he was turned towards the sarcophagus, the dim glow of the fireplace illuminating his face. My eyes fell to the object he was stealthily holding by the handle- the large metal key that opened it._

_I glanced worriedly at the sarcophagus, and back again to him. Sebastian looked rather exasperated when he saw I wasn't moving. _

_A small group of vampires crowded around the ancient artifact, all seemingly impatient to have whatever was inside revealed to them. I didn't recognize anyone among them._

"_Why do you want me to leave?" I asked him quietly, although I had more than an inkling of the reason why. He intended to open the damned thing! I had never questioned him in front of others before and many of their eyes flicked up to watched the little scene with great interest._

_Sebastian's regal face went a shade pinker and his nostrils flared. I had made him angry. Fear for his possibly very stupid actions overrode any kind of embarrassment I felt. He moved so close to me that the front of his suit and my face were nearly touching, and lowered his voice so that the audience we had would not hear._

"_Juliet," he said, and in his voice was a warning, "Leave this office immediately while you may still do so unescorted." _

"_You're going to open it?" I hissed at him._

_He glanced behind his shoulder and I saw the sheriff move towards us, his footsteps heavy against the polished floor. He stopped a few steps short of us, obediently._

_I felt panic choke me. This couldn't be happening._

"_You can't!" I said a bit louder than he would have liked. Sebastian glared at me, and several of the bystanders smiled amongst themselves._

"_Take her out of the building," he said to the sheriff, "Several blocks away, as we discussed." _

_The sheriff grunted his understanding and closed the gap between us._

_I realized with a start that he'd been planning to send the sheriff even if I had gone willingly as a kind of insurance that I'd stay far away._

_The sheriff laid his heavy hand on my shoulder. It was remarkably gentle for it's weight. He didn't push or make demands, and yet the simple motion was completely unyielding._

_I tried to think of something to do, to say to get him to listen. I sunk to my knees, which surprised the sheriff enough for him to let go of me completely. The hard floor hurt my knees but I didn't care. Sebastian raised his eyebrows down at me, looking flustered and embarrassed._

"_I'm begging," I said, literally grovelling at his knees, "I don't want you to die."_

_Sebastian stared icily at me, his eyes narrowed. He looked angrier than I'd ever seen him before, at least at me._

"_The sarcophagus is scheduled to be opened today. If you refuse to leave," he said and paused in indecision and haltingly said, "Then you will witness it as well... despite your beliefs of what is inside."_

_Short of clinging to his legs to childishly stop his movement, there was nothing else I could do. I couldn't believe we were both going to die here like this. "Please," I said again, and my eyes began to tear up._

_Sebastian turned away from me, "Make your decision. Leave if you wish," he said. _

_He waited a few seconds longer and then nodded resolutely, returning back to the sarcophagus and group of vampires surrounding it. Through my tears, I could hear him apologize to them on my behalf. He talked some more, mainly about the trial and work he had gone through to have it delivered here. I felt a stab of deja vu. I had heard this exact speech before._

_Finally he placed the key onto the sarcophagus, and slowly turned it with a grating metal crack. My stomach turned with it, and I silently prayed to God that everyone had gotten it wrong. Please let there be a dead guy in there, I thought. Somehow I knew though, there wouldn't be._

_They hefted open the lid, and everyone gasped all at once. Sebastian had a look of devastation on his face, and I knew I had been right. There was a soft mechanical beeping coming from inside, like an alarm on a phone had been triggered._

_And then it went off, and everything went firey hot, and then black._

* * *

><p>I awoke drenched in my own sweat, shaking.<p>

It had been a dream. Thank god, because I was pretty sure if I died I was going straight to hell, do not pass go; do not collect $200. That's what happens when you kill people.

I propped myself up on the fluffy satin pillow, and tried to calm myself, to remind myself that it was just a dream. Everything was okay here, in real life. Still, it was so unsettling I knew I would never get back to sleep that night. I glanced over at the clock and groaned. I had only been asleep for an hour.

My door opened and behind a bright halo of light from the hall, Sebastian poked his head inside cautiously. He looked a bit disheveled, his ginger hair sticking up oddly in places, and I couldn't help but notice the lack of a shirt. Some of my fear over my nightmare receded only to be replaced by embarrassment. Did I mention he wasn't wearing a shirt?

"Are you alright?" he asked. On his face was a look of weary mistrust, as if he thought maybe I was doing something in here he didn't want to know about.

I unconsciously pulled the covers further up to hide myself, though I was fully dressed in some unisex PJs I had found in the closet. I wasn't sure what to say. It sounded childish in my head to admit to having a bad dream.

He watched me expectantly.

"Yes, I'm fine. I dreamt about the bomb going off," I said finally, "If we'd been there when it had happened and you'd gone through with opening the sarcophagus. Did I yell or something?"

He pulled the door open a bit wider and seemed to relax, "Yes, you.. groaned, as if in pain."

I pressed my lips together, embarrassed. Groaning sort of sounded like moaning which sort of sounded sexual.

"I have also considered that reality," he continued, "I am...grateful that it did not happen that way."

I couldn't decide if he was trying to thank me for stopping him from opening it, or if he was trying to comfort me. Either way, it was strange.

I nodded, unsure of what to say. I leaned to the nightstand and flicked on the small bedside lamp.

Sebastian scooted more into the room, closing the door behind him, and I must have had a terrified look on my face because he looked at me in cautious indecision, briefly pausing before moving towards me.

He sat at the foot of the bed. I couldn't help myself from examining his bare chest. Though I'd seen it before, we had been in danger and the last thing on my mind had been admiring his body. It was covered with a fine layer of dark reddish hair and though he wasn't particularly muscular, he was lean and certainly more muscular than I.

He followed my gaze and smiled faintly, but didn't comment. "Are you alright?" he asked again. I was sure I looked as freaked out as I felt. Mostly about him being on the bed. Shirtless. Not so much the dream.

I nodded slowly, "Just a little shaken up. About the dream," I clarified with a lie, "It seemed very real, and for a second there, I thought I had died."

He quirked his brows in interest, "You actually died in your dream?"

I nodded again.

"I was always told as a child that if one died while dreaming, they would never wake up, and actually die in real life as well, in their sleep. It was a silly superstition. Still, I had never heard of anyone actually experiencing death in a dream, so, I suppose I half believed it," he smiled faintly, a look of far-off nostalgia on his face, "I told Eliza about it when she was a child and she believes it to this day."

I laughed at that. Their sibling rivalry was something I myself had never really experienced and it was cute and funny. "You will have to tell her about my dream," I insisted quietly. "When will she be in town next?" I missed the peppy, beautiful vampire woman who had been so empathetic and nice to me.

He seemed startled, and suddenly looked at me, "You have a beautiful laugh," he said, very seriously and suspiciously as if he were accusing me of faking it or something weird like that.

I opened my mouth to thank him, but nothing came out. My stomach turned over on itself at the compliment.

"I am unsure of when she will be back in California," he answered finally, looking towards the door, "But do remind me."

I nodded, unable to say anything more.

He promptly left after that, probably figuring the tension in the air was getting to be enough to kill the both of us. I spent the rest of the night listening to him move around the penthouse, unable to go back to sleep.

* * *

><p>I felt uncomfortable living there for more than one reason. First, nothing worked very well. The shower spit out only cold or lukewarm water and when I commented on it, Sebastian simply replied that he didn't use hot water. It didn't cross his mind that I might want it. The fridge, although always heavily stocked with blood, was always slightly too cold. Everything in it came out in a thin layer of frost. There was no oven at all.<p>

There was also the terrible awkwardness of the fact that we were now living together in the large quiet suite. When I laid down to sleep in the morning, I could hear him in the room across from mine. I heard the water running when he showered. I heard the chair scrape the floor when he sat at his desk. I heard him walking around and occasionally mutter to himself. And, perhaps worse, I knew that he could hear me. We were so impossibly far away, across the narrow hall, but also so impossibly close.

Though we never discussed the fact that I was now living with him, that was the reality of it. We were cohabiting somewhat halfheartedly romantically, or at least with romantic intentions... on my part...and maybe his. If I had a facebook, I would check the things were complicated box.


	3. The Prospect of War

The night fell and after my dream, I wandered out into the living area. I half expected things to be terribly awkward between us, but they were not. His political, courtly nature made easy work of smoothing things over. Teacher and pupil, boss and employee, there was always some professional bias lingering over our conversations, some deliberate metaphoric outstretched arm preventing me from getting too close.

The slip ups; the moments where Sebastian looked at me in a particular way, as if he were trying to tell me something; where he accidentally touched me; were just that... slip ups. I couldn't tell if this was his deliberate manipulation of me, or me making something out of nothing. I often felt like a crack addict, eagerly awaiting the next fix, for the mask to slip for a few seconds, as it had that night.

I found Sebastian characteristically stressed out, pacing and mumbling, and it reminded me so much of old times in the office, I immediately smiled. He was fully dressed this time too, which made things a little less awkward.

There were notes scattered all across the room, on the coffee table, precariously perched on the couch and all had very neat cursive writing on them. Many of them seemed to be lists.

"I am sorry to give you this news what with your lack of sleep," Sebastian said, "but we will be attending a meeting today with the leaders of the city. Excuse the disorder," he motioned to the papers littered everywhere, "It is quite an adjustment to missing a desk and file cabinet." he sighed and began to pick some of them up.

"Why do they want me to go?" I asked, briefly wondering how he'd known I hadn't gotten back to sleep. Maybe I looked tired.

"It is regarding my recent..." he paused, glancing up at me, clearly distracted, "assassination."

He looked handsome as ever, eyebrows knitted in concentration. He was wearing a dark blue suit, instead of his usual black one. It matched his eyes well. He didn't look as tired or as depressed as he had the past few nights.

Maybe they did think I was going to take his place when he died. I scoffed aloud and ignored the look I got from Sebastian. No way in hell was that happening. I would rather eat a piece of glass than deal with all the death threats and constant pressure. Either way though, I was happy to be invited because staying alone meant risking an encounter with Jenibelle, a thought that immediately made me feel sick.

* * *

><p>The meeting was taking place in the Camarilla safehouse, for lack of a better option. Sebastian explained that normally it would be in a special room of his building, but since it went kaboom, there was really no place that would be as safe.<p>

The room we entered was crowded with people, and they all talked over one another. Sebastian sat at the head of a long table, and somehow I had been given the second chair, the one directly to the right of him. The table was so long and there were so many people, I couldn't imagine how the person at the end was going to be able to hear.

As I glanced down the table, I noted the familiar faces. Several of them I had met at the party. The fat monopoly guy was laughing at something the guy next to him had said, and was holding his fat belly. The cane guy was doing his helicopter thing under the table. The vampires sitting next to him, if that could even describe their position, as they'd scooted as far back as possible, looked uncomfortable. Even Dominic was fidgeting quietly. That was all the people I recognized, so I was doing pretty bad as far as being knowledgeable went.

Sebastian took a moment to get his notes together and I watched him. He turned his head to his right and looked at the air beside us, "Molly," he greeted her quietly.

I blinked, examining the air beside me, and heard her faintly giggle at my reaction.

"Gary is still sending his pet to do his bidding for him, I see," he murmured, "Why not sit and _publicly_ intrude on the rest of us?"

I heard her scoff, "When you invite me formally, I'll attend formally."

"When Gary formally asks to embrace you, you will be welcome among us."

"Not gonna happen, princey."

He sighed, a long ragged sound, and I bit back some laughter at their ongoing antagonism.

Sebastian stood up and cleared his throat. The meeting was about to start.

"If I could have your attention..."

The last few talkers figured out what was going on and quieted.

"As I'm sure all of you know, a week ago I was pronounced publicly dead, my business enterprise was sold to the highest bidder, and the entire building was burnt to the ground."

He paused for dramatic emphasis, looking around the room.

"But most importantly, the tyrants who did this nearly brought down the Camarilla in this city as we know it today. The Anarchs continue to mock the Camarilla. They continue to mock this establishment we all sit in now. They mock everything that has kept us alive for the past hundreds of years. As I look around this room, It is obvious the sides those around us have taken,"

Sebastian stopped suddenly, his voice growing dark, "There is no going back from this day forward."

He sat back down, shuffling his notes, "Are there any comments?"

The room roared with voices and I involuntarily flinched away.

"In order of chair, please," Sebastian's voice sounded strained, as if he was irritated that he even had to remind them.

There was a dizzying myriad of opinions amongst the various vampires in the room, and they fought amongst each other with Sebastian playing the role of mediator but actually saying surprisingly little. They fought about war, and used the word constantly over and over, but I didn't understand what they meant until suddenly it clicked in my head. We could be going to war with the anarchs. I desperately wanted to ask Sebastian if it was true.

I finally got the chance to when there was a small intercession between the rounds of verbal sparring. Most of the vampires stayed in their seats and quietly talked amongst themselves, but others got up to leave to do various things. A woman came around to serve water and alcohol. I took the time to talk to Sebastian.

I leaned close to him, "Could we really be going to war?" I asked very quietly.

He nodded, setting down his notes. "Juliet, they demolished an entire building, _my_ building. It's still in the news. The police have been digging in the rubble. What if they found incriminating evidence of our existence? The anarchs _spat_ on the masquerade."

"Well..." I stared at the fine wood of the long table, tracing its pattern with my eyes, gathering up my courage, "I don't think Nines was involved," I finally said.

"Why in all blithering hell would you not suspect him to be involved?" Sebastian's voice was strained as he fought to keep the conversation at a quiet level. "Nines Rodriguez is the ringleader of the Anarch's entire ungrounded excuse for a pity party." he looked angry that I could even suggest it. I guess defending the anarchs isn't exactly orthodox for someone in my position.

"But he helped ...me...at one time," I argued, choosing to omit that he helped both of us, getting the feeling it might make Sebastian angrier, "What if he isn't involved at all? He could be a really good ally to us."

Sebastian seemed to stop for a moment, considering my words, "I would never dream to use the phrase 'very good ally' with that of Rodriguez." By now our conversation had garnered several onlookers. Mainly the vampire that sat across from me and the others closest to our side of the table. Several of them chuckled quietly under their breaths.

"Despite it being painfully frivolous," Sebastian continued, "I will consider sending someone to see where his loyalties lie."

"Let _me_ go talk to him."

Sebastian immediately seemed to recoil at the idea, "Absolutely not," he said, "At the brink of war as we are, it is too dangerous for you to be waltzing into that loudmouthed bar as if," he scoffed, and I detected a slight edge of jealousy in his voice, "you and he were old friends."

He gave me one last forbidding look before he seemed to mentally move on, checking his watch, but I couldn't accept that.

"Nines won't talk to someone else," I said, "But he'll talk to me."

Sebastian's eyes snapped back up to my face and I heard him growl under his breath, "This topic is closed for further discussion. Do not waste any more of these council members' time." He glanced at the rapidly growing crowd of onlookers.

I sunk back down in my chair, feeling somewhat dejected.

One of the primogen raspily cleared his throat. It was an old man, one that had obviously been embraced very late in his human life perhaps even on his deathbed. I tried to come up with what clan he resided over but couldn't quite make it out.

"To the contrary," he said, and Sebastian regarded him with weary eyes, "I do not consider this topic to be irrelevant. Juliet seems to have a natural ability to mediate. Although it is unlikely, I do not believe what she suggests is impossible. If Rodriguez is indeed not involved in the destruction of the Lacroix Foundation, and even if he were, it would be nice to know. The information she could obtain from this meeting would be invaluable."

The prince gave him a level look, "I refuse to put my successor at such risk."

Successor? As in replacement? Uh, I didn't remember anyone asking me! As I looked around the meeting table, I noticed that no one else seemed surprised with his declaration. I wanted to wave my arms and yell no, that I didn't want to be the next mayor of vampireland (Similar to candyland, in case you're wondering, but no rewards at the end. You get to keep your life. Sort of. Enjoy.), but I knew that I couldn't say that here, in front of everyone important. I'd embarrassed Sebastian enough already tonight.

The primogen man smiled kindly and patiently, the crow's feet around his eyes crinkling, and I could feel Sebastian's level of irritation rising. That happened to him a lot when he had to, god forbid, deal with nice people.

"There is no reason for her to meet with him in an unsecured area. Perhaps you could arrange for somewhere more neutral to be had," he suggested.

I shot the old man a grateful and somewhat nervous smile.

Sebastian seemed to realize that he wasn't winning this argument, and although he was clearly angry that the primogen had interfered and had chosen to take my side over his, he let it go for the moment.

"We will discuss it later," he said, his jaw tight, "On to more prominent matters."

The primogen man yielded and nodded. We waited for the few vampires that weren't listening to our heated conversation sit down and shut up.

"If there are no other matters of importance, I must take inventory of your official stance of war with the Anarchs before we can leave," Sebastian announced to the group.

As Sebastian went around the room, making note of each prominent member's response to war, I tried to keep tally. There was more than just the Primogen here, I realized. There were other important vampires whose opinions he noted. But there were also some ghouls that were there to take notes, and some young, inexperienced vampires like me which he skipped over.

Finally he reached the very end of all the vampires present that mattered. There seemed to be more negative responses than positive, but I had lost track somewhere along the line.

"Gary and the nosferatu community will show their support, but you didn't hear it from me," Molly said beside him.

Sebastian's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he noted it down.

"This meeting is adjourned."


	4. RIP: Kidnapper Van

The clock struck 3 AM as we stood outside the abandoned library on the outskirts of Los Angeles. The old building, though it seemed to be crumbling under it's own weight, was absolutely beautiful. It could pass as a miniature gothic style cathedral. This was where we were supposed to meet Nines. As I admired it, I wondered why it had been shut down. I wanted to ask, but Sebastian was too preoccupied, and I knew I would only get a half-assed reply anyway.

I had been shocked when he'd piled into the van beside me. I guess I thought he would have stayed behind. We were so far away from the penthouse, in a bad part of Los Angeles that I doubted the Prince had ever even visited. As a human (sort of), this was the type of place I'd known better than to go to, even in broad daylight better yet at night. Though I knew the vampires with me were the most dangerous things out here, I couldn't let go of the feeling.

I looked around, somewhat paranoid that someone would pop out of the shadows to try and shank me with a sharpened lead pipe. Okay, I know, I watch too many prison reality shows. A liquor store's neon signs glowed across the street. I wanted to send someone to get some booze so that I could get drunk. Perhaps then my nerves would be soothed. Hey, Sebastian did it. Why couldn't I?

The wind whipped around us and I shrunk back in my hoodie. Sebastian had insisted I dress in something baggy, but I wasn't sure why. I seriously doubted he just wanted me to be warm and comfy.

We'd been standing there a couple of minutes when I began to understand. Sebastian came towards me with a black bag full of various wires poking out from the zippered top. I half expected to see the Geek Squad logo on the side.

"What's all that?" I asked, afraid of the answer. Maybe this was some new way to further confuse my identity. Cyborg half-vampire with the power to run away from danger twice as fast!

He took a thin black box out of the bag and held it up.

"This," he said, "is a covert listening device."

"A wire?"

He nodded, coming towards me with it, and frowned when I immediately began backing up, nearly tripping myself on the uneven sidewalk.

"Wait, I don't know about this," I said.

He busied himself with untangling the various wires attached to it. I watched the muscles in his hands twitch as he undid a knot, "You have no choice in the matter. You will wear this or I will be forced to join the meeting, which will make it much less... friendly."

He looked so weird out here in the dark, dingiest part of the city, haloed by a streetlamp in a suit and tie. His appearance pretty much screamed 'rob me!' but God help whoever tried it.

"Don't you think this is a little bit overkill?" I risked.

He shook his head, and shoved an earpiece into my ear. I adjusted it with a frown.

He handed me the black box. "Put it in your pocket," he instructed me, and I did without any further bitching.

Next he stuck something on my bare arm. I looked down at it in question, expecting to maybe see a sparkly unicorn sticker with GREAT JOB! over it. Instead, It was just a clear piece of plastic with a red dot in the center.

"A very high technology tracking device," he explained, "Do not break it."

"Why do I need a tracker?" Did he think I was going to run away? Though I had to admit to myself that I'd considered it more than once, it was a little too late for that now.

He gave me an irritated look and didn't answer.

He seemed to pause a moment, trying to think of anything he might have forgotten.

"Say the word and the sheriff will be sent in with you," he said. I think he was trying to sound reassuring but, it wasn't very. It sounded more like a threat.

"Okay," I glanced at the man in question. He was watching us, hanging out with the guy Sebastian always hired to drive him around. They were smoking beside the conspicuously inconspicuous looking van I had dubbed the "kidnapper van," which was your typical white windowless cargo van. A homeless woman across the street with a shopping cart rolled by deliberately slowly, watching what was going on. I guess this was her version of a crappy action movie.  
>He nodded and pulled one last thing out from his pocket, "Last but not least..."<p>

Thank Jesus. We were almost done.

He pulled a very serrated, very sharp looking hunting knife out from its leather sheath in one slick motion and held it out to me.

Maybe not.

"No!" I pushed the thing away from me, trying not to stab myself at the same time, "You're so worried about me getting hurt."

He opened his mouth to apparently argue that he wasn't worried, but I continued on.

"If you send me in with that thing, I can guarantee I'll be getting hurt. I'll stab myself to death sitting on it!"

He looked at the blade, seemingly reconsidering, and I saw a flash of recognition in his eyes. Maybe he was thinking back to all the times I'd been handed a weapon or even an everyday object and had not known what to do with it, or had hurt myself with it.

"Besides, Nines and I agreed on no weapons," I added as an afterthought.

"Fine," he snapped, "but you cannot be naive enough to believe that Rodriguez does not have a weapon."

I shut my mouth as soon as I opened it to respond. I truly didn't believe that Nines would bring a weapon. Why would he need it? A guy like Nines could easily hurt me without any sort of weapon.

Besides that, Nines was an intense guy, the kind of guy that seemed to really honor his promises. If I showed up with a wicked looking hunting knife, I would certainly undermine his trust and then he wouldn't divulge anything to me. I couldn't believe Sebastian hadn't considered that, but maybe he'd meant for me to conceal it. There was only one more place left to fit anything else and he wasn't getting anywhere near that area with a knife.

Sans knife, we could talk.

Sebastian would hear none of it though, knife or no knife, and I didn't feel like starting another quirrel this close to showtime. Ha, showtime. I was starting to sound like Gary!

Sebastian began pacing in front of me, obviously nervous. I felt like stopping him, saying he was making me crazy, but didn't.

How I had gotten him to agree to letting me do this in the first place, I didn't really know. I had a feeling that the old guy we had met the day before had something to do with it and I would have to thank him if I ever got the chance. I didn't even know his name.

Sebastian's cell phone chimed out it's merry tune, and everyone stopped what they were doing to listen. He handed it to me, and I flipped it open.

"Hello, Nines."

"Juliet," Nines greeted me quietly, "You can tell Lacroix and his bitch crew they can go home now."

I glanced up at the buildings, wondering who he had spying on us, and how much they'd seen. "Sorry," I said, shooting Sebastian an annoyed look, "They aren't coming in. Lacroix insisted on backup."

"Had trouble getting the prince to respect your wishes? Welcome to our world."

I politely laughed, but didn't say anything. I couldn't tell if Sebastian could hear Nines' end of the line or not, and admitting that yes, I'd had a very hard time seemed like a bad idea. I was pretty sure people had gotten killed for doing less. I realized that the wire sitting heavily on my hip was going to either make this meeting very unproductive or I was going to get so much shit later.

"I'll be in there in a second," I sighed.

I shut the phone and handed it back to Sebastian. He shoved his earpiece in and nodded at me, and I turned to the building, strongly reconsidering the idea of running away.

The steps were crumbling, and I was careful not to trip over the loose piles of what looked like disintegrating marble. The columns that bordered the doors were overgrown with very pretty ivy vines. I hefted open the heavy wooden front doors, which looked like they had been sabotaged and unlocked from the inside. They let out a loud groan.

It was almost completely dark inside, save for the light of the moon that fell through the windows and onto the floors and walls. The library was filled with books still on their shelves. Some of the shelves had been knocked over and some glass seemed to have been broken out of some of the windows in the back. I imagined this was a hotspot for gangs and the homeless.

It was creepy as all hell.

Nines was sitting at a table in the middle of the library, a small stack of books in front of him. He looked as he seemingly always did when we met up anywhere; kind of pissy. He looked at me with mistrust and I suddenly felt absolutely terrible for allowing Sebastian to put a wire on me. Here he was, completely unarmed and alone and I was completely betraying his confidence. I ripped the earpiece out of my ear and shoved it in my pocket.

I stopped a few steps short of the table, and Nines motioned to the seat across from him. I reached down in my pocket and saw him tense up. I quickly pulled out the recording device and set it on the table before he could react negatively. He examined it warily.

"What's that?"

"A wire," I said, "I'm sorry Sebastian, but this isn't fair. I'm turning it off. Don't send anybody in here or I swear to God I will not be going back to work for you...or whatever it is we're doing now," I reached over to the device and pressed the small red button, effectively shutting it off. A small buzzing noise went off in my pocket, and I realized with a grimace it was Sebastian yelling into the earpiece.

We waited several tense moments and when nothing happened, I relaxed a bit. It seemed the threat had worked. I would deal with the fallout later. I sat down at the table across from Nines.

Nines nodded at me, still eyeing the thin black box that sat on the table in front of us.

"That was decent of you," he said.

I shrugged, but was secretly very happy that I seemed to have won his trust, "Lacroix wanted me to come with a dagger too. I'm not sure what he thought I was going to do with it if you decided to not make this peaceful."

It was so quiet in the library that we both had naturally lowered our voices to match. Not that Nines was normally all that loud in the first place.

Nines smiled, losing more and more of his suspicious gaze every second.

"You just disarmed yourself from the only equipment you had that could save your life and then admitted weakness to me," he shook his head, "I don't think I've heard a ventrue say that before."

He said the word ventrue like he could harm the sect just by saying it harshly. I wondered if maybe his prejudice would change if he'd met Eliza or even Molly, both very atypical vampires for their bloodlines.

"I guess I don't know how to talk any other way," I said, "I'm not very good at the whole political speech thing. Not everybody's power hungry, you know."

He stared at me a few more seconds, as spacey as I remembered him being the last time we'd met what seemed like so long ago. I glanced at the books he had piled in front of him. They were all classics. We definitely shared the same kind of literature tastes. I debated opening one to flip through but thought it might come off as rude.

I glanced around the library in unease, my gaze lingering on the dark corners of the room where I imagined someone waiting to pop out at me.

"Why are we here?" he asked finally.

"I'm going to be completely honest with you," I said, "This wasn't Lacroix's idea. As you can probably tell," I motioned to the recording device on the table, "he doesn't exactly trust me to not completely botch this meeting."

"I believe you," Nines said. He leaned closer to me over the table.

"I really owe you and so does Lacroix, though he would never admit it, for saving us back there with those hunters. I'm hoping that this will help make up for it."

Nines nodded his understanding.

"Lacroix doesn't know who blew up his building but he's pretty pissed about it. I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but he wants to start a war with the anarchs. He thinks you guys did it..."

I looked up at him, kind of hoping he would set me straight and say he had absolutely nothing to do with it, but he didn't.

Nines growled under his breath, fists clenched tightly on the table top, "Good!" he said and his voice echoed throughout the silent library. A few birds fluttered above our heads in response, and escaped through the broken windows, their shadows briefly dancing across the wall beside us.

"Listen," he spat, "I knew about the assassination attempt. We all knew, all us anarchs, and we were all in on it together. Your prince is targeting the right people for his little war."

I sighed dejectedly. So no good news there then.

"I was kind of hoping that maybe you could resolve things without going to war. That's why I wanted to meet with you," I admitted to him.

The handsome vampire scoffed sarcastically. His eyes were filled with malice.

"That's not gonna happen," he said. His voice was full of the same stubborn resolve that was generally in Sebastian's. The irony was not lost on me that these two men that were so different in nature were so similar in their bullheadedness.

I sighed again, feeling really stupid for hoping. What was I expecting? To convince Nines he should be best buddies with Lacroix? I shivered a bit, rubbing my arms in the cold library.

He caught my disappointed look and his softened considerably, "You've gotta understand... the Camarilla has been oppressing us ever since Lacroix showed up. None of the anarchs, me included, will ever agree to continue under it's reign. We won't stop until it's gone."

"I understand that," I said, "I just wish it didn't have to be this way. I wish there was a way you guys could have your freedom and still have a say in the Camarilla. It just seems like such a silly reason to kill each other."

"This is bigger than us, he replied heatedly, "You might want that, and even if that excuse of a prince did, which he fucking doesn't..."He gave me a look that just begged for me to disagree before continuing, "he can't just change Camarilla law. Doesn't work like that. He'd be kicked out of his position so fast, he wouldn't even have time to throw an insult."

"I don't know," I said, mockingly serious, "he can insult people pretty fast."

Nines laughed, his voice lowering back down to a normal level, "Why do you want to save everybody anyway?"

"I don't know...because I'm an unrealistic idiot," I answered honestly.

Before Nines could reply, a sudden movement behind him made look backwards in surprise. Someone stepped out from the shadows, a certain someone with bright red hair and a predisposition towards yelling. Damsel.

She sauntered up to our table, and I could see that she was heavily armed. The barrels of several guns stuck out from her pockets. I could tell that she and Nines had been fighting, because they seemed more angry at each other than at even me.

Nines glared at her, "I told you to stay on the roof," he said.

"I got bored," she replied, her equally angry gaze never leaving my face, "Besides, looks like I came in right on time. You don't actually believe anything this Cammy fuck is saying, do you?"

"Damsel," Nines said, and in his voice was a serious warning, "you can't start a fight here. Lacroix's got like 40 people outside and she's wearing a wire. You say one wrong thing and we'll be here all night. Besides," he glanced at me, "she isn't Lacroix. She doesn't want to fight us."

I couldn't believe he'd lied to save my pathetic ass, and I was sure my face showed it. They seemed to completely forget I was there.

Damsel shook her head, motioning towards me with her hands, "She's got you half dominated already! This is the Prince's bitch, his replacement. She's sittin' right here, unarmed, and you don't want me to blast a hole through her throat?" She touched the gun at her hip, as if just waiting for him to say the word.

He squinted at me, rubbing his scruffly beard in thought. I swallowed nervously, thinking maybe he'd changed his mind. I hoped I wouldn't end up deeply regretting turning the wire off.

"Is it really true that you're gonna be the next leader? Is it true that Lacroix's training you?" he asked me pensively.

"I don't know what his real intentions are," I said, "but I'm not taking the job if he offers it. I don't want it, knowing what I know about it."

Damsel scoffed loudly,"Why should we believe anything you say?"

I shrugged, looking away and trying to be non-confrontational.

Nines leaned back in his chair and it let out an eerie creak. He was still squinting at me, still accessing me, "Juliet, you still have time to switch sides if you want to. You know that right? You'd be welcome among us."

"No she wouldn't!" Damsel insisted, looking particularly enraged at that, "All the rest of us anarchs would cut your throat in your sleep, so don't even think about it. Whatever shit you pulled on Nines, it aint workin with me honey."

Nines glared at her and I bit my lip nervously. I wanted to tell her that I probably wasn't skilled enough to dominate her and especially not Nines, but I felt like it might make her think I was lying.

Nines abruptly stood, apparently deciding our little meeting was over. "Thanks for the heads up about Lacroix," he said, "sorry I couldn't help your cause."

I nodded at him, standing as well, and pushed the chair in by habit, then felt silly because who was going to use it?

Damsel glared once more at me over her shoulder. They turned and disappeared into the dark maze of bookshelves in the library. I waited until heard a door slam shut in the back as they left before I moved the opposite direction, coming out the way I'd entered.

* * *

><p>Pissed did not accurately describe Sebastian Lacroix's face as I walked out of the library. Enraged came close. Maybe a step above that, if a word for that even exists. If it doesn't, Sebastian Lacroix's face invented it.<p>

I was dead tired by that point, the mix of adrenaline and anticipation having worn off, everything being done and over with. I really didn't expect his reaction. Looking back, I probably should have.

He met me at the steps and grabbed my arm. It _hurt _and I actually thought he might break it. I wasn't just being dramatic, either.

It was then that I knew I was in some really really deep shit.

He pulled me away from the library building, away from the kidnapper van and the sheriff. I fought to keep up with his hectic pace across the patchy brown grass. We entered a narrow alleyway at the side of the library.

He easily threw me against the side of the brick wall, hard enough to knock the air out of my lungs. I shivered at the cold and the deranged look on his handsome face. He was angry, but more than that, he looked incredibly hurt.

Suddenly he was impossibly close to me, his arms on either side of me and our faces nearly touching. Every other part of him was touching me. Our breath mingled together in the night air.

On his face was a look of intense, heart-stopping fury and I pressed my body against the freezing wall to create as much space between us as possible, my body wracking with shivers in response.

"I have a bit of a dilemma, you see," he said, his voice low and dangerous. Though I desperately wanted to, I couldn't look away from his face. There was no where else to look.

"One part of me wants to dismiss you from my sight for the duration of your miserable life. The other," he faltered, looking disgusted with himself, "is inexplicably attracted to you. Ever since you gave me some of your damn blood, I..." he stopped, unable to finish. He looked incredibly frustrated.

I was sure my heart skipped a beat at his declaration.

He suddenly melded his body against mine, filling the very small amount of space left between us, and crushed our lips together.

I froze, unable to move. He must have taken this as a personal challenge because his lips, soft but urgent demanded mine to respond, the same way he would demand me to do anything else. I whimpered involuntarily beneath him. My legs were beginning to feel jelly-like and I felt that I might collapse to the ground if he weren't pressing some of his body weight against me.

It seemed almost as soon as he'd began, he pulled away from me. I struggled to catch my breath. He seemed desperate to recompose himself, standing straight, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and pretending that didn't just happen.

"What did Nines say?" he asked me in a 'back to business' voice.

I stared at him. How the hell could he expect me to answer a question like that right now?

When I didn't say anything, his jaw tightened, "Answer me."

I winced at his harsh tone.

"I don't know!" I said, "Please, just give me a second, okay?"

He waited impatiently, his blue eyes piercing right through me.

I wracked my brain, trying to come back to reality, "Nines said that the anarchs were responsible for the assassination attempt."

He nodded, looking unsurprised.

"He..." I paused, searching for the right words, "welcomes the idea of war and refuses to compromise any of his beliefs for the sake of avoiding it."

"Useless," Sebastian spat, "A complete waste of my time. Why did you disable the listening device?"

"Because" I pleaded, noting how horribly desperate I sounded to placate him, "I was trying to gain Nines' trust. It wouldn't have worked otherwise. I think...I don't know but I think he thought it was a set up."

He narrowed his gaze, "In the process of gaining his trust, you have lost mine. You will not betray my trust in you again. If we are standing on a bridge and I tell you to jump, you will jump. Do you understand me? I risked quite a bit allowing you to come out here to have your useless meeting. You are very lucky the negotiations went smoothly."

I nodded slowly in understanding, deciding to keep Damsel's unexpected presence to myself, "I know," I said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to break your trust."

He didn't acknowledge my apology but his gaze was much more mellow.

"Let's go," he intoned and walked out of the alleyway, leaving me just standing there.

Okay, so he was kind of angrier than I thought he'd be. I rubbed my arm, wincing at how sore it felt and ambled out of the alley.

Everyone was already in the kidnapper van, waiting for me. I hesitantly joined them, scooting in beside Sebastian on the seat, wishing the ride to the penthouse wasn't almost an hour long. This would be one incredibly awkward hour. There weren't even any windows to look out of. I wondered if Sebastian would agree to the radio being on. I glanced at him, and decided the possible gain wasn't worth the risk. He looked like it wouldn't take much for him to snap again.

The driver started up the van and we were on our way.

I didn't really have a lot else to say to Sebastian, but I felt that if I did come up with something in the next hour, I could say it without too much trouble in front of the sheriff. The sheriff was as unresponsive as ever, taking up about a third of the total space in the van, and staring straight ahead at the wall like a soldier might.

I wondered what the Sheriff thought of me. How many things had he silently witnessed between Lacroix and I? He surely knew I was haplessly in love with the guy. Everyone knew. Even Nines knew! Sebastian obviously felt very confident with him as a body guard, as he was the only person the Prince had brought to defend us here, and many other places.

I glanced over at Sebastian with a sigh. He had begun impatiently tapping his foot. He seemed to sense that I was watching him and I quickly looked away.

"Fuck," the driver said, "We have company."

That was all the warning we got as the van suddenly and violently jerked to the right. Of course none of us were wearing seatbelts, and I was slammed into Sebastian. I ended up sitting in his lap in a rather demeaning position when the car righted itself. Sebastian was sandwiched between me and the wall of the van.

Something smashed the window, and glass sprayed across the inside of the van, which tilted and swerved dangerously. I instinctively hid my face and the back of my neck from the onslaught, and I felt Sebastian try and use his arms to shield me as well. I would have been touched by this simple action if I'd had a spare second to do so. I may or may not have screamed like a little girl, but this can neither be confirmed nor denied, just saying.

Both the sheriff and Sebastian shot into action, leaving me just kind of sitting there like a dumbass. Lacroix went to the front of the van and grabbed the wheel. I realized that the driver had slumped down in his seat, perhaps dead, though I couldn't see.

The sheriff reached behind our seats and got out the biggest gun I had ever seen in my life. He actually _opened_ the door next to me while the van was moving, and I clung to the seat, freaked the fuck out, as the 60+ mile per hour winds tore through the van around us. I watched the ground, a blur of asphalt, in absolute terror. We were on the highway. The sheriff began shooting out the side-door at another car, momentarily deafening me.

"Juliet!"

I caught my name between gunfire.

I turned, looking at Sebastian. I scooted closer to where he was, but was utterly unable to stand. He saw the problem and pushed me into the passenger's seat next to the now clearly dead driver.

"Take the wheel!" he shouted at me. I did, leaning over as far as I could to do so while still being in the passenger's seat, and tried to focus on steering. Something had been damaged in the hood and it was smoking, partially blocking my vision. The car was steadily losing speed, with no one to push the accelerator, and I wasn't sure whether that was good or not. If we stopped, we were sitting ducks.

I watched in apprehension as Sebastian leaned across the front seat and opened the door, pushing the dead driver out of the van completely, slammed the door shut again, and took his place in the front seat. He pried my shaking hands off the steering wheel and stomped on the gas. He was remarkably calm for someone who was in his position, but still looked quite appropriately stressed out.

He glanced at the rear view mirror at something, as more rounds of gunshots rang out in the van.

I turned in my seat, straining to see who it was in the other car trying to kill us, and my heart dropped into my stomach when I saw. It was the anarchs. I couldn't see Nines among them, but there were at least 5 others. I recognized a few of them I had seen in the bar but never met, and Damsel seemed to be leading the little party.

The sheriff was getting in some pretty good shots. It looked like one of their tires was completely blown out and there was a lot of blood over there. Still, we were out to the numbered. I couldn't believe this! We hadn't even officially started the war!

A piercing, grinding metallic noise alerted us that something was very wrong. I looked behind me and could see that the car the anarchs were using was slid right up alongside ours. We were running out of room on the road to get away, and Sebastian pushed the van ever faster, the engine smoking heavily. The anarchs easily caught up and several of them pointed very heavy artillery machine guns out their windows and directly into the van with grim smiles. One person looked like they had a flame thrower. I ducked away from the sight of all the weapons. At this close range, everyone was fucked.

Sebastian cussed, having the same ideas, and seemed to brace himself for impact. I did the same. Then he deliberately spun the wheel all the way to the right, away from the anarchs' car before they could fire. As a result though, we went off the highway, and at around 80 miles per hour, we were thrown into the ditch.

The van rolled, although how many times, I couldn't really say. I was thrown pretty much everywhere. There was the distinct sound of glass and metal sliding against concrete an explosion of glass, and then everything abruptly stopped.

I groaned. Every part of my body hurt, and there was glass everywhere, a lot of it sticking out of me. My shoulder felt like it had been shattered or dislocated or something. When I moved it to try and get up, I cried out and cradled my arm awkwardly to my side. It felt like someone was ripping the muscles out.

Sebastian was next to me, and although cut up somewhat, he certainly fared better than me. He had blood on him, but most of it was either mine or the dead drivers. He ducked out of the car window, and I realized with a start that the van was actually upside down, and I was sitting on the overturned roof. I followed, shaking from the pain of moving my arm.

The sheriff was already out there, and he seemed completely unharmed. He even had somehow managed to hold on to his gun. He had it hefted over his shoulder. We all looked around, expecting the anarchs to be trying to run us over or something, but there was nothing out there. Behind us, the car was smoking heavily, and looked as though it would start on fire.

"Why did they not come to finish it?" Lacroix murmured aloud to himself what we were all thinking. His brows furrowed as he looked around. Then, abruptly, realization hit and he groaned aloud, "Sixty minutes to sunrise. They left us to burn."

I looked to the horizon, surprised to find dawn beginning to break. I looked around. There wasn't much on this side of the highway. Just some bluffs that went back as far as I could see. On the other side of the highway, there was the outskirts of the city, factories looming in the distance, but still much too far to walk.

"Hmm," Sebastian said to himself as he looked off into the distance.

I followed his gaze. On an exit sign just a few feet ahead, I could make out the .5 mile marker and the name of an offhanded town I'd never heard of. Perhaps we could make it to something over there in time.

Sebastian glanced over at me, looking a little concerned, seeming to really notice my condition for the first time. I was bleeding quite a bit from my...well everywhere that had been cut by glass... so basically my entire body. I was pretty sure it looked like I'd gone through a blender. But besides my shoulder, everything else seemed to be in working order and that was pretty good, I thought, for an 80 mph car crash.

"Come," he said to us, "we must leave before the police show up."

We began walking in the direction of the exit.

* * *

><p>AN: Wow, this is a long chapter. Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for the kind reviews. They were very...kind.. (did I mention how kind they were?) and I appreciate the support. Seriously one of these days I am going to reply individually to everyone. But for now, group hug.


	5. My Drug of Choice

The closest thing to the highway turned out to be the crappiest motel I'd ever stayed in. It was the kind of motel that made hell look like a palace. Not that I'd ever been to hell.

The big neon sign said vacancy and from the looks of the faded sign out front that was riddled with bullet holes, I could see why. COCK'S MOTEL, it said. Cocks indeed.

The outside of the building was covered in bum piss and cigarette butts. Sebastian hesitated outside the door as if he were debating burning to death in the sun as a viable alternative to going into the hotel. But as he glanced over into the distance and saw the sun beginning to peek over the horizon, he just shot me an apologetic look and pulled open the doors.

The lobby faired no better than the outside. It looked like it hadn't been cleaned since the building had been built. The green carpet seemed to have stains every few steps, and dirt was caked in the corners of the room. There was very little in way of decor, just a couch with a young latina girl laying on it like a deflated balloon. She only looked just out of elementary school. I watched her, and couldn't feeling kind of worried about her. She stared at the ceiling in an unresponsive trance, twitching and smiling at something making its way through her veins.

Behind an equally dingy looking counter was an extremely hairy fat man who peered at us over the lines of cocaine he was separating on the glass. I knew about the overgrown state of his body hair, unfortunately, because he wore no shirt. Lets just say that I didn't know that people could be fat enough to have rolls on top of their rolls until that day. He grunted at our little hodgepodge of unlikely companions and smiled a broad, knowing smile at us. The blood on us and injuries didn't seem to phase him a bit.

"Welcome to Cock's Motel," he said with a gold-toothed grin, "How many hours?"

"The entire day," Sebastian said, slipping the man a stack of hundred dollar bills, "Allow no one to disturb us."

The man cackled, and set a key card down on the counter next to the blow. His gaze focused on me, his dark eyes glinting with lust. I cringed.

"Yeah, you got it. Have fun kids," he chortled, picking up the pile of money off the counter and counting it.

Sebastian's jaw muscles tightened in the way they always did when he got really pissed off, and he leaned across the counter and grabbed the man around the throat. The sheriff stepped forward as well, cracking his huge knuckles.

"You will treat us with respect or your excuse of a hostel will be no more. Do you understand?" The man spluttered a choked out yes, and Sebastian pushed him away. He wiped his hand on his jacket, looking rather disgusted, and took the key card from the counter where it sat.

He strode off down the hall, shaking his head. I grimaced in apology at the man who was now eyeing us in fear. Though he was admittedly disgusting, Sebastian shouldn't have taken his anger out on him. I turned and followed him, and struggled to catch up with his hectic pace. The Sheriff walked much more slowly behind us, not seeming too worried about losing track of us.

The hall smelled extremely heavily of drugs of some kind. Maybe marijuana, I wasn't sure. It was a woody, thick smell though and I'd lived next to plenty of weed smokers whose apartments churned out that smell day in and out.

There were some sexual noises coming from some of the rooms, as well as some yelling. Our room was on the far end of the hotel, thankfully facing away from the rising sun.

"It is safer that we all stay in the same room," he said to me, as he unlocked the door with a metallic snap, "considering the usual clientele here."

I nodded. The people here seemed like they could be dangerous.

Sebastian led the way inside, and shut the door behind us. He immediately shut the curtains over the window.

The sheriff ripped the comforter from the bed and tied it to the curtain rod for extra assurance. Then he stood in the corner of the room for the duration of our time there. I swear to god, he turned into a statue after that.

Sebastian and I kind of just stood in the middle of the room, looking around at things for a good twenty seconds. There was little in the way of furniture, probably because the room was so small. It looked no nicer in here than the lobby.

I tried to find the relatively cleanest thing to sit on. There was a queen mattress, but I sure as hell wasn't going within a foot of it. I could almost feel the STDs and bodily fluids from where I stood. I wasn't sure what Sebastian was doing. Maybe the same thing.

He finally turned to me, which wasn't hard in the small hotel room, "It is essential you get something to drink," he said.

"I think that guy in the lobby could probably get us some booze," I said before I could censor myself.

Sebastian raised his brows. He seemed to be fighting amusement, "That is not quite what I meant," he said, "but perhaps another time."

Shit, why had I said that? The last thing we needed was another excuse to get drunk together alone.

In all seriousness though, I completely agreed. I needed blood, that much was apparent. My shoulder ached and I was still bleeding from the large pieces of glass that stuck out from various places in my body.

I wasn't sure exactly what he was planning to do about it. Find someone in the hall whose blood I could choke down? We certainly couldn't go outside and look for anyone else. I wondered what it would be like to drink some cocaine-laced blood. Maybe I'd find out.

* * *

><p>As I soon found out, that was exactly what he planned.<p>

At Sebastian's suggestion, I stalked through the hallways like the creature of the night I wasn't, staying in the shadows, crouching down behind walls, waiting for my victim to come to me.

I was so sneaky, in fact, when someone ran head first into me, I shrieked in terror and slammed my broken arm against the wall behind me. My vision blurred and I bent over from the intense throbbing, splitting pain.

"Owwwwww," I said.

"Aw Jesus, I'm sorry!" It was a man's voice. He had an accent that sort of reminded me of Mercurios. I looked up at him, pressing my arm to my side and willing the pain to subside. It was an older man, probably in his forties. He was outrageously thin and wore a royal blue tweed coat. He had the gangster look going on, but didn't seem high. He seemed like a promising target.

"What the hell happened to you, doll?" he asked, glancing down at my bloodied appearance.

"Uh... I..." I tried to come up with a lie, but before I was forced to, he shook his head.

"Hey, you know what? I get you, okay? It's alright. You don't have to go explain' anything to me sweetheart if you ain't comfortable."

I smiled. The guy seemed to be trying to soothe me.

"Listen, uh, I got some stuff in my room that can help with that," he said.

I pursed my lips, thinking. It would sure help to feed on him somewhere in private... but what if the guy had his window wide open?

"Only if you make sure the shades are closed," I said, and when he looked at me in question, I added, "Someones... looking for me..."

His dark eyes flashed in recognition and I hardly had time to see the frown set deep in his face before he turned around and began walking to his room. Thankfully it was located just a few doors down.

I stood outside while he shut the curtains, and then he ushered me inside. His room was much like ours; small and nasty.

He disappeared into the bathroom and when he came back out, a large first aid kit was situated in his hands.

Maybe I could allow him to care for some of my wounds before I fed from him. It's not like they would all heal immediately anyway. I didn't exactly get those perks when I drank human blood, and I was sure I would have to do some of this first aid thing myself later.

The bed let out a squeak as I sat on it. I tried to hide the disgust I felt at doing so, and watched as he carefully sat on the carpet in front of me, and got started plucking the slivers of glass from my legs.

"Hey you know," he said, his hand wavering over the largest pieces first, "you aint gotta live like this. Theres, you know, other options."

I stared at the top of his wavy dark hair, "What?"

"I mean, Johnny's bitches don't get treated like this."

Johnny's bitches? I winced as a particularly sharp piece was wrenched from my calf. What the hell was he talking about?

He must have sensed my confusion because he momentarily stopped to look at me, "You're a fine catch," he said, shaking his head, "And your pimp is treating you like this? You deserve better, doll."

My pimp? A sudden image of Sebastian in a purple pimp suit holding a cane forced it's way into my thoughts, and I burst into uncontrollable laughter.

He thought I was a prostitute. But hey, at least walking in with Sebastian, I probably had a reputation of high end prostitute! Climbing the corporate ladder!

Against my better judgement, I decided to go with it.

I shrugged, "It'll be okay. He's usually a nice guy. And he pays really well."

The man, Johnny presumably, looked at me, his dark unruly brows creased. "You gotta reconsider," he pleaded, "I hate it when bitches are treated like dirt."

"No thanks," I said, "I really like where I'm at. This is just... a downside." I almost forgot that I wasn't talking about being a prostitute, the comment sounded so much like something I would say to Nines about joining the anarchs.

Johnny sighed, "I can't let you go back there," he said. He put down the tweezers he'd been using to pull glass out of my legs. "You gotta come back with me to Jersey. Don't worry about the asshole you used to work for," he said. He pulled a shiny black glock out of his jacket.

Dammit, I thought.

"Wait," I said, getting up from the bed and taking a few cautious steps towards him, "Before you go, let me give you a kiss for good luck."

I leaned in, close to his ear, and bit down on the greasy skin of his neck before he could resist. His arms fell limp to his sides and I winced when I heard the glock hit the floor, glad the safety was still on.

The feeding, well, lets just say that didn't go so well.

No sooner had I dug my fangs into him did I feel the uncontrollable urge to vomit. I tried to ignore it and feed anyway, but eventually it was too much and the blood pushed itself back up my throat and all over the nasty hotel room carpet.

I coughed, clearing my throat and stared at the bloody puddle with a growing sense of dread. What the fuck was I gonna do now?

* * *

><p>I plodded back to our room, my footfalls heavy on the carpet, feeling disappointed in myself. I had kind of been hoping to feel normal for once. Well, as normal as vampires ever feel.<p>

I didn't know what I was going to tell Sebastian. I considered lying to him, but thought that it might make things worse. I felt pretty bad about his whole 'you broke my trust' speech that previous night, and if he found out that I did it again, I was pretty sure he was actually going to become something akin to my homicidal pimp.

I hoped that maybe I was reading into it wrong. Maybe Sebastian wouldn't be mad at all. Maybe he would help me come up with something else to do about my injuries. He could send someone human that worked at the hotel for one of those high-end blood packs I had been drinking for the past few weeks. If he paid them enough, surely they wouldn't ask questions...

I opened the door to our room to find Sebastian pacing. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. He had taken his tie and jacket off. I had rarely seen him in only an undershirt before and I couldn't help but stare. He looked worn out. His hair was a bit disheveled, and he had dark circles under his eyes. A five o clock shadow was beginning to build up on his face. Was it worry or just impatience gleaming in his intense blue-grey eyes? I couldn't tell.

"You have been away for nearly an hour," he snapped.

I winced at his tone, shutting the door behind me. So much for him not being mad.

"Uh, yeah. I found someone to you know, do the whole vampire thing on, but I threw all the blood up," I told him.

He looked exasperated and let out a ragged sigh. What did he expect? We were at a place that seemed to cater specifically to prostitutes and we were both of venture lineage! Besides that, I seemed to only be able to hold down blood when my body felt like it, with no rhyme or reason, a side effect of being a complete freak of nature.

I tried to share my idea about sending someone to get blood bags, but he didn't seem to be listening to me, so I just shut up.

Sebastian rolled up his sleeve to the elbow, and flashed his fangs. I watched in utter confusion as he bit a large gouging hole in his own arm. Blood trickled down to the carpet, making a small pool there where it would join the other numerous stains.

I still hadn't figured out what he was doing when he shoved his arm in my face. I blinked stupidly at it. In my defense, I had lost a lot of blood and I was pretty out of it.

"Go on," he said, "Try not to commit diablerie."

What the hell? I tried to recompose my face from it's look of initial shock, but it was difficult. This definitely wasn't what I'd been expecting.

"I refuse to sit here and watch you mope for another 12 hours, nor are we prepared to deal with you frenzying," he explained impatiently.

I nearly began laughing because insulting me was Sebastian's preferred way of saying he didn't want to see me in pain.

He pushed his bloody arm further into my face. I grimaced at it, and I couldn't help but thinking this was a bad idea.

When I still seemed to hesitate, his gaze darkened, _"You Will Drink My Blood,"_ he said, and I felt myself reaching out to his wound in a dizzy haze.

* * *

><p>He wasn't kidding about the diablerie thing.<p>

You know how they say that whiskey matures with age, and gets better every year? Well, apparently same thing for vampire blood. 200 year old vampire blood? It was literally the best thing I'd ever tasted in my entire life, and I really doubted I could have stopped myself from draining him dry, had he not been strong enough to effortlessly remove me by force from his arm.

I was basically convulsing in pleasure when he did so. My tastebuds hurt, like I had eaten something way too sweet and they were overloaded. The blood was cold in my mouth but settled hot in my stomach, warming me to the core. The taste of his blood was incomparable to anything I'd ever whipped up in the kitchen as a human. Nor did it taste anything vaguely like human blood. It was completely indescribable, but so good.

"Oh my god," I said, staring at him with wide eyes. How was he still alive? He was like a huge walking twinkie! Vampires from all over the world should be following him around with the intent of eating him. I licked the excess blood from my mouth, not intending to let any of it go to waste. I had the urge to lick it off his arm too, but managed to refrain from doing so...barely.

Not only that, I thought, but I also felt good. Like really good. Better than any drug good. Better than my best day alive good. My head was clear and I felt as if I could go run a mile. If that girl on the couch knew about this shit, she'd be trading her entire stash in for just a drop.

He looked incredibly smug about the intense effects his blood had on me, his lips upturned in a haughty smirk.

Something dropped to the carpet with a muffled tink, and I looked down. A piece of glass. I realized that my wounds were healing, pushing the remaining shards of glass from my body. My shoulder cracked loudly, the pain instantly subsiding.

"Thank you," I said quietly to him, rotating my arm in front of me experimentally.

He nodded.

* * *

><p>After I was fixed up, there was nothing else to do but wait until sunset. We turned on the tv for a while, but that got old pretty fast. Besides infomercials and the news, there wasn't much else on.<p>

Sebastian dug around in the drawer next to the bed and began reading the Bible he found in there, of all things. He sunk to the floor next to the bed, apparently deciding that the floor seemed like the less disgusting option.

I busied myself with trying to ignore the odd gravitational pull that my body had found with his. It was so weird. It seemed his blood had permanently damaged the reward centers of my brain because I felt a flood of endorphins every time I moved in his direction. The closer I got, the better it felt.

I tried to fight it but I quickly ended up within a foot of where he was sitting on the floor and reading, his back against the wall.

I stood there for a while and hoped he wouldn't notice, but that was stupid because who doesn't notice a person standing right in front of them? Sure enough, he glanced up in question.

Then, as if he could read my mind, an amused smirk settled on his lips.

"Sorry to bother you," I said and I sat on the floor next to him.

"Hmm," he said, and went back to reading.

I stared at the book sitting in his hands, and then a sudden urge came over me to touch him. I couldn't do it though. I'd never initiated contact with him before, at least not just for the fun of it. It seemed so disrespectful and inappropriate. My body seemed to be on a completely different wavelength than my brain though. It made me uncomfortable to ignore my body's demands. A deep ache settled in my chest as I resisted, constricting my breath.

My arm twitched of it's own accord and the uncomfortable feeling I had was getting unbearable. I finally reached out to touch his hand and cringed as our skin met.

He glanced at where my hand sat over his and then up at my face.

"Um something's...wrong...with me," I said apologetically, afraid of his reaction.

He pressed his lips together, suppressing laughter. His eyes went back to the Bible in his hands, but he allowed me to touch him without complaint. I sighed in relief. He wasn't mad.

Touching him felt really good. A lot better than moving closer to him had. My skin was all hot and tingly where it met with his, and I sighed. It felt so good. How could it feel this good? I didn't know. It was almost as if the nerve endings in my skin had gotten 200x more sensitive.

I picked up his large hand and sandwiched it in between mine. I examined it carefully, like it was the most interesting thing in the world, tracing his veins and the lines on his palms. I couldn't believe he was okay with this. I glanced up at his face, his expression unreadable.

I played with his hand for a few minutes, and he seemed to completely ignore me. It was getting so hard to control my actions. Like fighting through resistance, like swimming in water maybe.

My body seemed to want to move on to bigger and better things. I used his fingers to trace the vein up my arm and I pushed his hand higher and higher, up my neck. In a horror-filled trance, I even pressed it to my cheek, and over my lips.

I relished the feeling it brought and tried to fight my actions at the same time. I tried to push his hand away from me, but couldn't, and let out a very frustrated groan. Why couldn't I control my own actions? I didn't want to do this. This was getting _so embarrassing._

Sebastian looked up at me, assessing my expression of terror with a look of boredom.

"It is normal," he murmured to me absent mindedly, maybe trying to make me feel better. He went back to his book, but I could tell he was beginning to get distracted. He was no longer really reading, his eyes fixed to one spot on the page, his shoulders rigid.

His words only seemed to spur on whatever horrible force was bent on embarrassing me. I ran his fingers down, under the hollow of my throat, between my breasts, down my stomach and...His hand turned to cement at a certain point, refusing to move further down. I sighed, but in relief or in frustration, I couldn't quite tell anymore.

"Juliet," he said, his voice sharp with warning, "We cannot."

He had obviously already seen where this was going a long time ago. He looked at my face and then at his hand, and his expression was one of steely resolve. I could feel the blush creeping up my cheeks.

"I do not intend to go any further with you under the influence of my blood." he explained rather gently, removing his hand from my stomach, "You do not act of your own free will."

"Sorry," I said again, wanting to agree, to tell him that...

What was it I wanted to tell him?

I promptly forgot what I was thinking so I didn't say anything. All I could think about was how great I felt when Sebastian looked at me. I wished he would look at me all the time and touch me, instead of that stupid book. I was suddenly incredibly jealous of the book in his hands. I didn't notice how odd that sounded.

"It will subside," he reassured me, though I didn't have the slightest idea what he was talking about anymore.

He went back to reading the book in his lap and ignoring me. He did not relinquish his hand to me again. I scowled at the book.

I scooted next to him, so that our sides were touching completely and I could lean against him and the wall behind us.

I stared at him for a long time. I'd never noticed how his intense eyes were slightly more of a gray color than blue; the way he twitched his lips upward but never fully smiled. His hands moved deliberately, with purpose, even when just turning a page in a book.

"I love you," I uttered to him in a quiet, unabashed tone.

He looked down at me, and I plastered a dumb smile to my face. I should have said that a long time ago. It seemed to really get his attention.

"Yes, I'm aware," he replied, seeming unsurprised at my assertion.

I don't know how long I sat there, memorizing his face but eventually I laid my head against his arm and closed my eyes.

Sebastian was halfway through the Bible when I fell asleep like that.


	6. Awake

When I awoke again, it took me a few seconds to remember why my face was situated on the carpet and why I was looking at a suspicious yellow stain in the side of an unfamiliar mattress.

When I did, I really wished I hadn't. Maybe there was still time, I thought, to slam my head against something hard enough to get a concussion. Then perhaps it would all go away.

The things I had said and did the day before were mortifying. I couldn't remember doing anything more embarrassing ever, in my entire life.

I stared at the stain on the mattress above my head a long while, hoping that maybe it would swallow me whole.

Unfortunately, though, it didn't, and I soon ran out of options as I became aware of Lacroix's gaze on me. How he'd known I was awake, I wasn't sure. I hadn't moved, or looked up.

"You're awake," he said.

I finally glanced up to find him standing over me, and hefted myself into an upright position. I could tell right away that things were different than last night. My limbs were much more responsive and my thoughts were decidedly less obsessive.

Absolutely nothing seemed out of place from the time I'd fallen asleep save for the bible that was propped against the light on the nightstand, rather haphazardly. The clock beside it glowed 3 in the afternoon.

I had no doubt that Sebastian had finished the entire bible. Though I had to admit to myself that I was impressed by this show of his ability to read so quickly and to focus for so long, I wondered why he had bothered to read it at all. Even if there was anything that remained of his religious connotations, there were certainly more urgent matters to attend to. Maybe he was able to do two things at once; to think and read at once? I wasn't sure and I didn't ask.

I brought my gaze back to the man in question.

Sebastian watched me think, not interrupting, as if he could hear my thoughts echo back to him. By the way he was studying my face, I could tell that what I was thinking was probably broadcasted for all to see... or at least, for a certain politically minded ventrue that was an expert at reading expressions to see.

He didn't say anything at all to me for a long while, and I uncomfortably shifted on the floor, picking at the carpet, plucking at the stray threads.

"Feeling any better?" I heard him ask above me finally.

"Yes," I said, and didn't look at him.

That seemed to be the extent of what he wanted to know, because he backed off after that, busying himself with what seemed to be a final walkthrough of the crappy hotel room.

When his gaze had unpinned me from my spot on the floor, I got up and went to the bathroom to try and get my bearings. I splashed my face with water, and smoothed my hair down. The roots were beginning to show. I needed to dye it again.

And that was as good as it was going to get, which actually, considering the circumstances, was pretty good.

In fact I thought, as I looked closer at myself in the mirror, I looked healthier than I had for weeks. My cheeks were dusted with a healthy pink glow and they had even filled out a bit. It blew my mind that the blood could do something like that.

I took a large breath to steady myself before leaving the bathroom. I expected the worst. A talk about feelings, perhaps, or some awkward questions about how long exactly I had been pining after him.

But Sebastian seemed just as eager to discuss the results of his sharing blood with me as I was.

* * *

><p>"Again."<p>

Sebastian's voice was the only thing I could hear. Not the prostitutes next door that I knew were surely still fake moaning, not the radiator in the corner that hummed when it turned on, not the gunshots across the street. Just him.

"Hand me the glass," he said, his voice soft, compelling, velvety.

I groaned, "I need a break."

"No."

I opened my eyes to glare at him but then realized that was a bad idea. His eyes captured mine in a hard, dominating trance.

Dammit.

I closed my eyes again, trying to think about something to block it out, anything. Cupcakes. Pterodactyls. The pile of laundry I'd left in Sebastian's penthouse that I needed to figure out how to wash.

"Juliet," he said, a bit amused, "you're cheating."

Right. Like this was some kind of fun game we were playing.

I sighed, pressing my fingers against the carpet, hard, to steady myself. Though the world wasn't really going to tip upside down when I opened my eyes, it sure felt that way at times.

I opened my eyes again, and looked at the glass sitting between us. My hand immediately jolted forward, fingers itching to touch it's cool smooth surface, to hand it to him as he'd asked. My hand halted briefly in the air, the last ounce of control I had over it.

Inside my brain it was like a thick glaze had covered all the control panels, short circuiting everything. A thousand bugs, itching at my brain, voices whispering softly into my ear, all sounding suspiciously French.

The glass sat there, mocking me.

My fingers closed around it and everything stopped. I sighed in relief, handing the glass to Sebastian.

"Better," he said as our fingers brushed. He set the glass back on the floor between us.

"Has anyone's head ever exploded from resisting domination?" I asked, pressing my hand to my forehead, "I'm getting a serious headache from this."

The corners of his lips upturned slightly, "I will assume that was sarcasm. Your resilience is good, in light of last night's events."

I couldn't help but think that a few seconds hesitation was hardly resilience to being dominated, but simply nodded.

Sebastian stood and I followed suit, grabbing the glass from the floor on my way up.

"Because of the blood, you may find it difficult to decline any request I might make of you," he continued, "You must tell me immediately if you feel this way."

Did he plan to manipulate me with his blood? His concerned gaze clearly tried to convey to me that no, he would not.

Still, I had to wonder. Why had he been so eager for me to partake? Was it really just a fear of me frenzying? A desire to not see me in pain?

Or had I taken a silent oath of loyalty, like Mercurio?

* * *

><p>We left the hotel room as soon as night fell. I was the last one out, and I gave the dingy room one last long look before shutting the door behind me.<p>

Though it was a much more beefed up looking car that pulled up at the curb in front of the hotel, I didn't really feel much safer getting into it.

The hour long drive was tense, both Sebastian and I on edge the entire ride, waiting for something to slam into the side of the car or to hear the heavy metallic sounds of gunfire.

Despite our worry, we reached our destination without incident.

I'll admit it. I missed the penthouse. It reminded me of the office blown to smithereens and I was hopelessly nostalgic about it. After a night of sleeping on a crusty hotel floor, I had to stop myself from running into my room and jumping on the bed. Sebastian seemed relieved to be home as well, if the slight downturn of his shoulders and the loosening of his tie was any indication.

The entire place had been cleaned while we were away by someone. Maybe a housekeeper or something. The wine glasses crusted with old blood had been cleaned, the floors looked shiny like they'd been polished and my laundry had been done for me. I wasn't sure why that surprised me so much.

The Sheriff, I noticed, didn't follow us in. Instead he stood outside the door, a permanent sentry. Did the guy ever get any days off, I wondered?

I was looking forward to things getting back to normal, well, normal for me, but I knew they wouldn't. Sebastian was going to declare war on the Anarchs, especially now that they'd tried to kill us and then we'd have to do some kind of battle or something. I wasn't really sure how this war thing was going to work anyway in the middle of downtown LA. I did know that whatever happened, it would be as far from relaxing normal everyday life as was possible.

Sebastian spent the next several hours in the office in the back, but left the door open, maybe as an invitation to talk, I wasn't sure.

I spent the time watching tv, trying to soak up the little bit of normalcy left before it vanished.

I often found myself thinking about Sebastian's blood. Often meaning most of the time. Nearly every couple minutes, actually. I watched a commercial about cranberry juice and I pictured Sebastians blood instead, all crimson and gleaming, remembered the taste and texture in my mouth.

I imagined ways for me to convince Sebastian to offer me more. In one fantasy scenario, I "accidentally" stabbed myself with a kitchen knife. Whoops! Need some blood pronto. Bleeding out here. Sebastian?

I thought that perhaps I should check myself into rehab, but I didn't think that would go over so well with the people who run those kinds of places. They probably don't see addiction to blood too often. Not to mention how very pissed Lacroix would be at me for breaking the masquerade. Still, it would be funny. Almost worth his wrath for a joke.

By the middle of the night, Sebastian seemed done working and he spent the evening with me. I knew something was off right then and there. He was being way too nice.

"How do you feel?" was the first thing out of his mouth. Which is the last thing I expected.

He was shirtless again, something I would never get used to. He sat down next to me on the couch.

"Is there a vampire black market for blood? Cause you could make a fortune," I said.

"My next business venture, you're suggesting?" he replied, not missing a beat.

"If it is, I get a cut for coming up with the idea."

He raised his eyebrows at me, "How about I provide accommodations, an endless supply of blood, clothing and whatever else you might need?"

"Point taken."

"We must be very careful not to give you any more of my blood..." he hesitated, "right now," he finally decided, "as I am unsure what the long term effects will do to your psyche."

_Right now?_ I wondered. He couldn't possibly mean that he would offer it to me again. The idea made my pulse quicken and I tried to get my excitement under reign. He suppressed a smile, and I inwardly groaned. Somehow, he seemed to know what I was thinking. How? Was it my quick heartbeat that gave me away or just my expression?

He decided to change the subject, "To answer your question, though I have no doubt that the humans have a black market for their blood, there is no vampire blood black market, for a multitude of reasons. Your idea has many flaws."

How typical of you to point them out.

"For example," he went on, "How many ghouls and blood bonded vampires would I procure in just a week's time?"

I shrugged, "Repeat business. Besides, would you really turn down a whole city of vampires unable to refuse you?"

I inwardly scoffed. It sounded like Sebastian's own personal wet dream.

His face changed from playful to serious, and with startling intensity he said, "I wish to lead the vampires of this city, not enslave them."

I nodded, "I get that. You sure could have fooled Nines, though."

At the mention of the anarch, Sebastian sighed. He leaned forward on the couch. He looked guilty.

"Juliet, I understand that the timing is less than ideal, but I must leave tomorrow."

"You're leaving?" I couldn't keep the edge of desperation out of my voice. His eyes swept across my face, his expression ever so subtly softening.

"Yes, I apologize for the circumstances."

"Where are you going?" I tried to keep my voice steady and calm my pounding heart. What was wrong with me? I was acting like a ghoul or something.

"Las Vegas to meet with allies for the upcoming war."

"Oh," I breathed, "Don't you think the anarchs will try something if they know you're leaving town?"

He shook his head, "No one will know. I will be gone one night. I trust that you will find something to do to entertain yourself while I am absent?"

I shrugged. I could visit the library, if I got up early. The one downtown was open until 10. Maybe I could find a book on how to read people like a book. Perhaps then I could be on an even playing ground with Sebastian.

As I later found out, I really should have tried to find that book. Not because of Sebastian, but maybe it could have helped when I ran into Jenibelle.


	7. Playing With Fire

I stood under the stream of the shower, water hitting me square in the chest where my heart was beating, shallow and rapid.

My fingers had long ago pruned, and my tears had long ago stopped, but still I stood there. Under the water, surrounded by the stark whiteness of the tiles and hiding behind the shower curtain, I felt safe. My face was puffy and hot, and the water was cold and numbing and soothing.

It was surely almost eight o'clock by now, and Sebastian had likely already left. I wasn't sure why I was crying about it. It was stupid. He was only going to be gone for one night. Still, the thought of not seeing or interacting with him for that stretch of time nearly brought me to hysterics again. It was pathetic, and I hated myself for it.

I busied myself with washing my hair for lack of a better distraction, running my fingers through the suds. It was getting long, nearly reaching my breasts with the weight of the water, and I needed to think about a haircut and dye job.

Maybe there would be some magazines at the library that I could look through. The crappy kind with pink backgrounds and fake looking women smiling at me with too-white teeth. The kind I generally avoided.

With that thought, I rinsed my hair and got out of the shower.

* * *

><p>In Sebastian's perfect cursive handwriting it said:<p>

_I rather hoped to speak with you in person before I left._

_It is important that you understand that in my absence, however brief and discrete it is, you must take the role of acting prince over the city. This simply means that were something to happen that would require my attention, you would be called upon to carry out my orders remotely until I returned. This would be a matter of hours in a worst case scenario. Try not to fret over it._

_Here is the key to the complex and a direct line. I should not have to remind you that the phone is for emergencies only. If it rings, pick it up._

_There are several guards stationed outside the door of the penthouse. Call upon them as needed._

_Be safe._

_-SL_

I groaned at the paper and set it back down on the kitchen counter where I'd found it. Sebastian and I really needed to have a talk about me not being given any Prince related position of power. Did he intend to ask me at all or was he just planning on forcing me into it? I didn't know, but I wasn't looking forward to _that _conversation.

Sitting on the counter beside the note was a key and a cell phone. The cell phone was a nice, newer model, shiny and black. I checked that the ringer was on full blast, and scrolled through the contacts.

Cell Phone

Eliza

Hotel Lobby

Hotel Room

Pager

Transportation

That was it.

I paced for a while, wondering if this was entire thing was a test. I wouldn't put it past him. Whether Sebastian had really left or not, this was a carefully constructed allotment of his trust. I could nearly feel it crackling in the small space, bouncing around off the antique gold-encrusted kitchen appliances. He _wanted_ to tell me to stay here and sit on my hands while he was gone but he hadn't. He was going to trust me instead.

I stared at the phone like it was a bomb about to blow up in my face. If I missed a call or screwed this up, it would be beyond bad. The pressure was overwhelming. I prayed that for one night, the anarchs and the hunters and the sabbat and all the other foes we had could just take a little break. One night was all I asked.

* * *

><p>I pulled on some tennis shoes, and tried to think of a creative fake name I could give the librarian to check books out with. I had the strange and delicious thought to use Juliet Lacroix, but knew it was too traceable, especially to any vampire who cared to look.<p>

I got all my things together, and debated calling the contact in the phone labelled transportation. In the end, I decided to just walk. It wasn't that far.

The guys that Sebastian had hired to babysit me were outside the door, just as he'd said they would be. There were two, and they looked like pretty regular guys. They wore concealed weapons and were dressed in suits.

When I walked out into the hall, they looked at me like they couldn't believe _this_ was what they'd been paid, probably a very handsome fee, to protect. I just smiled at them, and walked towards the elevators. They didn't try to follow.

It was nice outside, an unusually warm night for this time of the year. The streets were relatively busy. There were a lot of businessmen in suits carrying briefcases, going home after an extended office day. Limos, lincolns and BMWs sped past me on the roadway. The penthouse was definitely on the yuppie side of downtown. I checked the cell phone again, paranoid that I might miss something from Lacroix.

I decided to cut across a very inviting park. A manicured lawn, newly laid sidewalk and ample street lights beckoned me over. I took my time enjoying the scenery, and only passed a single person; a woman walking her dog. The little chihuahua growled at me as I passed it.

The smell of smoke on the breeze first alerted me that something was wrong. It was a nasty, strong thick smell, like trash burning. I looked around to find where it was coming from, but couldn't see anything out of place.

* * *

><p>I was pretty surprised when Jenibelle fell into step beside me.<p>

"How nice of you to join me," she said to me.

I faltered in my step only slightly. She was dressed in a tracksuit, and her platinum blonde hair was perched high atop her head in a lopsided bun. Even in such casual attire, she looked like she'd just stepped off a photo shoot.

Was it a coincidence that we'd met here? I wasn't sure, but I highly doubted it.

"How long have you been following me?" I asked, willing my voice to stay even, as if we were only chatting about the weather.

"I've been watching for you since Sebastian left," she said easily, "I wasn't sure you'd venture out with all these big bad vampires around."

She said that last bit in a degrading, mocking voice. She was clearly making fun of me.

And maybe she had a right to. Why had I walked instead of calling for a car? Why hadn't I brought one of the bodyguards with me? I nearly groaned aloud as I chastised myself.

I imagined Jenibelle hiding in the shadows of the lobby, obsessively watching me leave. Not to mention, this was the second time something bad had happened to me on my way to or from a library. Maybe this was a sign that I should start using Amazon to buy books.

"I'd appreciate it if you came with me," she continued, "I just want to talk, and I don't want to have to use force."

She slowed her pace to look at me and I found myself unable to refuse her polite request. What other choice did I have? I could try to run away, but she would surely catch me and drag me, kicking and screaming, to whatever part of hell she wanted to take me. I hesitantly nodded and followed her off the smooth concrete path that wound through the park.

As I followed her through the grass, the burning smell strengthened until it was nearly overwhelming. We walked for several minutes through the underbrush and trees and entered a clearing well away from the road. A trash can's insides had been lit on fire and everything in the clearing was dimly lit and flickered.

Jenibelle turned to me in the otherworldly light, under the stars. Her eyes reflected the light from the fire so thoroughly that I was unable to look away from them, mesmerized.

"I've been trying to meet with you ever since I found out that Sebastian had embraced you. He is quite overprotective though, don't you think?"

I shrugged. Though I did agree that he was a bit paranoid at times, I felt he certainly had a right to, especially concerning Jenibelle. And apparently, trouble went out of its way, cancelled its flight and drove three states over to find me. Metaphorically, of course.

She watched me with calculating, blue eyes; Sebastian's eyes. I cleared my head, knowing that I would be unable to hide my emotions from her if I continued thinking.

"You know, I really thought that sarcophagus would kill him off. He was so obsessed with the thing," she looked me over with an expression of intense scrutiny that also reminded me a lot of Sebastian, "Rumor has it that it was you who convinced him not to go through with it. How'd you do it?"

I shook my head, "I didn't really," I said, "I mean I might have delayed him a bit, but he was going to do it eventually anyway."

I wasn't sure why Sebastian had agreed to wait to open the sarcophagus, but I felt that it had something to do with the blood I had given him. I didn't say anything about that to Jenibelle though.

"I was quite impressed when I heard that you had so much sway over his emotions... that he would postpone such an event for you. You must be proud of the control, of the position you've managed to obtain."

I felt my brows furrow. Control? Surely Jenibelle had _met _Sebastian, right? I was pretty sure his own mother, had she still been alive, would have difficulty controlling him. Me doing it? That was a joke.

"I don't want to control him," I said in a small voice.

She laughed. Her teeth were straight and white and the fangs in the back of her mouth glinted in the light of the fire.

"Don't be coy with me dear," she said, "I am complimenting you on a job well done."

Her eyes swept across my face again and the smile slowly dropped from hers.

"Oh, you're serious," Her eyes got all intense then and she looked at me so hard, it nearly hurt to keep her gaze.

"I see I've got you all wrong," she admitted when I was silent, "You're clearly uninterested in your position. God," she laughed sharp and mocking, "are you even a ventrue?"

I swallowed my alarm at the comment because by the sound of her voice it was clearly made in jest. The reality of it was I didn't know _what_ exactly I was. Though Sebastian seemed remotely sure I was a ventrue, we didn't have a ton of evidence to go off.

She seemed concerned about me, or disturbed perhaps at my admitting this to her.

"You are weak, childlike, naive... I can see it in your eyes. Sebastian loves to control things. You will serve his purpose well, I am certain," she said, a sad tinge to her voice.

She didn't seem to be lying to me, and her comment made me think. Was that truly what Sebastian enjoyed about me so much that he kept me around? She seemed to have personal experience.

I realized too late that I should have bluffed and played like I was using Sebastian. Whatever little respect Jenibelle had had for me was clearly lost now. She didn't like nice girls. I bit my lip, more nervous now, hoping I hadn't just made myself completely disposable. I hoped that I was at least a pawn, a way to hackle Sebastian. It wasn't ideal, but maybe it would keep me alive. The second I became completely useless to her, I had a feeling she might just kill me.

She smiled at me in that way she always did, more a mix of a snarl and a smile. A smarle, if you will. She began walking closer to me. I edged back, glancing behind myself. Trees and darkness and my long shadow dancing around the grass. No escape routes, how comforting.

"You're so nervous," she said, "I gave you my word that I only wished to talk. Does that mean so little to you?"

_Pretty much nothing_, I thought.

"Well, I suppose you aren't completely unintelligent then," she said, as if she'd heard my thoughts.

I swallowed.

"There is one little gift I want to give you before we part. You see, I have many ghouls, and I like to be sure they will stay loyal. One cannot simply rely on the blood. You must also emotionally break them as well."

I didn't like where this was going.

She turned her eyes to mine again, and I recognized the look in them. It was a soft, gleaming, beaconing look. She was dominating me. I immediately closed my eyes.

Her breath was suddenly on my neck and I stumbled away from it, blind.

"Don't worry," she whispered, close to my ear, "I'm not going to kill you."

"What do you want from me then? Just leave me alone. I didn't do anything to you!"

She scoffed then, a bit angrily, huffy.

"_Open your eyes,"_ she demanded and my eyes complied, without my consent. I tried to look away but was physically unable to. I called upon every ounce of the very convenient training Sebastian had provided me with just the day before, but it wasn't working.

I realized that he had deliberately gone easy on me.

Jenibelle circled around me, like a shark. Each plod of her heel was as calculating as her eyes.

"Be still now," she said, _"Do not move."_

I had spent thankfully very little time with Jenibelle before that night. I knew practically nothing of her, except what Sebastian had told me. While I was forced to stand in front of her, I took the time to study her, the way I imagined Sebastian might size up his enemies. It made me feel marginally better to know that his blood was rushing under my skin, to know that, in an ironic twist, it would be his blood she would spill this night as well.

"I would make the better childe," she said finally stopping in front of me. No anger graced her delicate features. It was just a fact to her, "That he chose such an inexperienced, childish girl as his successor will be his downfall."

I stared at her and couldn't help feeling that maybe she was right. It wasn't the domination either. How much more competent than me would this woman be as Prince? She would never have gotten caught in a situation like this. Was I going to end up Sebastian Lacroix's downfall?

She marched away then, to the burning trash can, and pulled something up that had been propped against it. Something I hadn't noticed was there before. I squinted at it... it looked like...

Yes, I could see it better in the light of the trash can as she lifted it.

It was a large metal poker, the kind ranchers used to brand cattle. The end of it was shaped into a twisting fanciful J.

_Fuck,_ I thought, pushing my muscles to move. My legs stayed locked in place, arms dangling uselessly at my sides. Panic fluttered inside of me. This was so bad.

She pushed the end of the prod into the fire, turning it with practiced expertise. Her face was illuminated and shadowed, eye sockets dark, cheekbones alight, like the outline of a skull.

She held the cattle brand up out of the fire. It glowed bright orange.

"Will you beg, I wonder? Will you beg me not to mar your pretty flesh?"

She seemed to want me to. Would it placate her? No, I decided, I wouldn't give her the sick high her intense gaze suggested she might get from it.

She crossed the distance between us.

"I want Sebastian to know, when he looks at you; when he surely fucks you, as he will, that you are _nothing._ You are a sad, pathetic replacement for me," she whispered low, her breath on my ear.

She reached down to me and I flinched away. No pain came though, and I opened my eyes in time to see her rip my shirt open, exposing my bra and the curve of my breasts rising and falling with each frantic breath.

She looked at the cattle prod in thought, twirling it around absently, "I almost feel bad, doing this, knowing that you will be broken at such a deeper level than anything I could ever do to you. I almost feel that we could have so much in common when Sebastian is done toying with you..."

She smiled then, driving the poker into my chest.

"Almost."

I pushed back away from it with all my might, so much so, that I fell backwards into the grass.

The impact of my head against the ground made my teeth hurt, but that was nothing compared to the pain of the brand.

It felt like being burnt alive; like a hole deep in my chest was being excavated and filled with hot lava. It felt like my skin was shriveling and burning and dying. Though the brand was on my skin only a few seconds, a deep ghostly ache formed where it had been.

It was all I could do to keep coherent, my breath coming out in short hard gasps. I felt tears prick my eyes and I knew I had no control over it- I would cry. I would sob. It hurt so badly.

A noise, a muffled metallic ping. I hardly registered that Jenibelle had dropped the brand to the ground next to my head, and stalked away. She left me there, in the park on the ground, writhing in pain.

* * *

><p>It took me a long time to pull myself back together and get up off the ground. I knew I couldn't just lie there. Someone would eventually wander through here to investigate the smoke and find me.<p>

Still, it hurt to move so I took my time.

The trash can fire had died down quite a bit, just a dim pit of orange deep within it, and I struggled to see in the dark.

Directly over my heart was a bright red engraving of a J. An interesting choice of location, I thought to skin had incinerated off it seemed, leaving only a deep red soft tissue underneath that throbbed with just the air touching it. I didn't try to put my shirt over it. When I moved that shoulder, I had to clench my teeth and my breathing was labored. It was agonizing.

Still, it could be a lot worse. I could be dead.

When I had finally hefted myself into a sitting position, I opened the cell phone Sebastian had given me to check the time. It was nearly eleven-thirty, and I'd left at eight.

There was a nasty metallic taste in my mouth, and I spit blood onto the grass beside me. I must have bit my lip or tongue or something, I reasoned.

I made my way back to the penthouse with my ripped up shirt billowing around me. The guards stationed outside the door gave me odd looks as I passed them.

The penthouse didn't contain any pain medication, nor did it have any first aid stuff. I knew this to be true without having to check. So I just shrugged off the ripped shirt, and laid down on the bed in my room. I didn't bother with the covers.

* * *

><p>I awoke to the sounds of a ringing cell phone, and immediately jolted up, forgetting about my fresh wound in my panic to find the phone and answer it.<p>

I spent several seconds grimacing and hissing, tears in my eyes. I dug the phone out of my pocket, opened it and pressed it to my ear.

"Hello?" My voice was raw and hoarse from crying.

"Hello, Juliet."

Sebastian, shit.

I glanced down at the red blistering J on my chest. It had a clear sticky-looking glaze on it now.

An awkward silence followed and I knew Sebastian had heard the pained, sad tone of my voice.

"Have you been..." he hesitated, "_crying?"_

I couldn't tell if he sounded more appalled or more guilty.

"Uh... yeah," I said, panic rising in my throat. How the fuck was I going to explain this to him? I really wished I didn't have to at all. Sebastian was going to think I was such an idiot.

"I, uh..." I stuttered.

He sighed into the phone, interrupting me, "I apologize again about the timing of my absence. I am calling to check on you."

Why did he sound so guilty? I realized with a start that he thought I was crying because he was gone, because of the blood he'd given me. I smiled, relieved.

Nevermind that I _had_ been crying about it in the shower earlier...

"It's okay," I said finally, eager to change the topic, "How is it going in Vegas?"

"Things are better than even I anticipated. We have many allies here," he replied.

He bought it. I let go of the breath I hadn't known I'd been holding.

I half-listened to Sebastian talk about Las Vegas for a while, resting my head against the cool pillow and tried to ignore the aching of my chest.

He seemed so optimistic about these allies he'd found, whoever they were. He mentioned the Prince of Las Vegas. I uh-huhed and hmmed at all the right places in our conversation to make him believe that I was giving the conversation all of my attention.

I couldn't help my mind wandering to my predicament though. I couldn't possibly hope to hide this from Sebastian. I was practically immobilized with pain, and it wasn't going to magically heal itself by the next night when he got back. Besides that, it would definitely leave a scar on me.

I hated lying to him but if he knew the truth, he would never trust me alone again. He would surely also be angry at Jenibelle, and the threat of confrontation between them made me nervous. I had a feeling confrontation was what she _wanted_. Why else would she go through all the trouble to do this? Just out of spite?

No, Jenibelle was just as careful as Sebastian. She was plotting something, and she wanted Sebastian to lose himself in anger.

For what purpose though, I couldn't say...

"Juliet...?"

Sebastian's voice snapped me out of my reverie.

"Sorry," I said immediately, feeling a bit guilty, "I'm listening. I'm just really tired."

"Are you lying down?" his voice was low.

"Yeah."

"Hmm..."

Silence. What the hell? "Hello?"

"I'll see you tomorrow night. Goodbye, Juliet."

"...Bye."


	8. The Mask Falls Away

The night was still young and though I really _was_ tired after getting off the phone with Sebastian, I knew I couldn't just leave the burn on my chest unattended. I didn't know what to do with the damned thing, and I couldn't exactly waltz into a hospital to have it checked out.

So before the night was up, I ventured out again to a 24 hour pharmacy. Wincing with every movement, I piled like 40 boxes of various painkillers into a shopping cart, figuring one of them had to work even on someone as strange as me, along with some gauze. I also added to the mix a weird topical burn cream I found called "The Burninator."

When I went to check out, I must have scared the cashier with all the pills, my clothing and hair smelling strongly of smoke, and the desperate look in my eyes.

I spent the next ten minutes convincing the security guard and cashier that I was not, in fact, a crackhead who had just blown up her buddy.

The good news? It seems that people aren't as sexist as I thought. Nowadays, even women can run crackhouses. Then again, when the women look like I do, maybe it doesn't count as a victory for equality.

I treated my new tattoo of Jenibelle's first inital as carefully as I could. The burn cream soothed the irritated skin on my chest and the random, probably dangerous cocktail of painkillers I took helped some.

I washed the whole thing down with some of that bottled blood-alcohol stuff that Sebastian had an entire pantry stocked full of. I figured why not? I was half dead anyway. Liver damage hardly mattered now.

I taped a whole bunch of gauze to my wound and felt pretty good about my handiwork. After I was done, I fell into a deep, drug induced sleep.

* * *

><p>I rolled out of bed around midnight the next night, which was obviously really late. Stuff on my nightstand had been moved around. The pill bottles were neatly lined in the corner next to the gauze, and I knew immediately that Sebastian had been in there. He had probably come in wondering why I'd slept so late.<p>

The ripped up, bloodied shirt I'd been wearing the night before was in plain sight on the floor. Any ideas I might have had of pretending everything was fine and dandy went out the window.

I debated getting drunk just to make myself loopy enough to forget about the whole thing. I almost did it too, hand poised above the bottle of potent liquid in indecision.

In the end, I decided to take the high road and not abuse the alcohol.

For the record though, I really wanted to.

* * *

><p>I edged out into the living room cautiously.<p>

Sebastian wasn't out there. He wasn't in the kitchen. Nor was he in the office, I noted, peering into the cracked door.

I was sure that he was here, but that only left one place he could possibly be. His bedroom.

I stood outside of the door to his bedroom for like half an hour, staring at it. I really, really didn't want to go in there. It was the last, most personal place he had left in the apartment. In a way it sort of stood for the final barrier in our relationship; the separation of our rooms across the long, lonely hallway.

Furthermore, I knew _he knew_ I was standing outside his door. And I knew that he was deliberately not coming out. And it was a thought that particularly terrified me.

Feeling a bit like a fly allowing herself to be trapped in a very handsome, very dangerous spider's web, I very lightly knocked on the door.

"Please enter," he said through the door.

I hesitated, considering demanding that he come out into the living room, but thought it sounded pretty childish, so I didn't.

I opened the door and stood outside of it.

His room was about twice the size of mine, which said something, because my room was by no means small. There was an entire wall devoted to bookshelves, and a fireplace was the only source of light. It surrounded by several blood red chairs, one of which Sebastian himself sat in. He was wearing his typical dark suit. At the other end of the room, there was a massive, ridiculous bed. I didn't look too long at the bed.

As my eyes darted nervously around the room, I could feel his icy gaze on me.

"For a moment, I thought you might not do it at all," he said.

I laughed nervously. "Sorry, I, uh, I didn't know if you were in here or somewhere else."

I trailed off, wincing at how much I sounded like an idiot. Of course he was in here.

He didn't respond to my stuttered reply, but he didn't look away either. The way the light from the fire was dancing in his cold grey-blue eyes reminded me of Jenibelle and made me shudder.

A few more moments of silence passed in which I did not move from my place outside his door. He took a few sips from a wine glass he was holding, presumably filled with blood.

"Anything else interesting happen in Las Vegas?" I finally asked, unable to stand the silence much longer.

"I'd rather prefer to speak of it in front of the fire," his eyes darted to the flickering flame and then back to my face, "Won't you come sit with me?"

I swallowed, "Oh," I said as eloquently as ever.

I slowly stepped into Sebastian Lacroix's bedroom, shutting the door behind me. This was weird. Weirder than vampires, and fangs and blood. It was a human weirdness, and it made me more afraid than any of the other things I'd experienced. Sebastian was a man and I was a woman and being in his bedroom broke all sorts of societal norms that had collected in my head over the years. Girls don't go to boys' sleepovers, and all of that.

Sebastian's eyes followed me as I walked across the room, and I noticed his gaze ghosting over every part of my body, looking discretely for wherever I'd been injured.

I sat down in the chair beside his. It was warm beside the fire, and the chair was remarkably soft, like velvet under my fingertips. Only the best for Sebastian.

"I guess you're probably wondering about the blood and pills and everything in my bedroom," I said, figuring I might as well skip the pleasantries. It was obvious that he knew, and there was getting out of this. I was in his bedroom, trapped between a wall of fire and his ice cold eyes.

I didn't wait for him to answer me because the answer was obvious.

"Well, I got hurt while you were gone. Not, you know,_ bad _or anything..."

"Show me," he demanded. I glanced at his face. His expression was hard and unforgiving. I didn't have a choice.

"I'd rather not," I said and offered him a sheepish smile.

He glared at me, eyes hard, obviously not accepting that as an answer.

Crap, could this day get any worse, I thought with a sigh. Now not only was I alone in Sebastian's room, I was going to be stripping in front of him too. God, why?

I swallowed, and willed the butterflies away from my stomach. They were not normal butterflies, but instead vicious mutant monster butterfly tornados. I felt like I was going to vomit.

I stood, and lifted the shirt up over my stomach, exposing my bra, bunching the fabric up at my neck. I pushed the fabric over the tender, gauze covered patch over my chest with a hiss.

I frowned as I watched his eyes trail upward a little bit too slowly, pausing momentarily at the bra.

He cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable. I gave him a look that I hoped clearly conveyed,_ I told you I didn't want to do this._

I slowly eased the bandages off my chest, revealing a smattering of blood and the burn mark.

Sebastian's mouth opened like he wanted to say something, as he looked at my burn, the rough, raw, oozing skin just below my collarbone in the shape of a J. Nothing came out of his mouth. I expected to see some moths or something flutter out.

I couldn't tell from his expression whether he recognized the emblem etched into me, but I figured he must have. At least, if Jenibelle had been truthful about the way she treated her ghouls, and given his previous relationship with her, he should have.

"Jenibelle," he finally muttered after he'd spent a good awkward minute surveying my chest, confirming my suspicions.

I rebandaged my wound, and let the shirt drop back down over it. I sat back down in the chair, trying to act like nothing particularly embarrassing had just happened.

I expected him to say something like 'I can't even leave you alone for a second! Sheesh! Less than 24 hours and you managed to get yourself maimed, blah, blah, blah.' Only more eloquently. I guess maybe I expected that because that's what I'd been constantly saying to myself since I'd gotten myself maimed by Jenibelle. He didn't say any of that though.

Instead he asked, "Are you in any pain?"

"Yes," I said, noting the ache when I moved my shoulder or breathed in too deeply.

"You realize that I cannot give you any more of my blood at the present time," he replied, rather apologetically.

"I didn't ask for it," I said. Why did he sound so sorry? I watched his face carefully, but could glean nothing from the indifferent mask he'd laid over his emotions.

He swallowed, "What did she _say_ to you?"

He looked much more concerned at this than at even the wound. Perhaps he understood what she had explained to me, that the wound was just a way to mess with his head, not necessarily an attempt to kill me.

I told him what she'd said about me trying to control him, and how she'd reacted when she'd realized I wasn't. I told him about the strange look of pity she'd given me, and how she'd told me I was just a pawn he was manipulating. I told him what she had said about me; that I was childish and naive; that I would be his downfall.

By the end of it all, the expression on Sebastian's face was dark and worried.

"Do you believe that, Juliet?" he asked me.

I hesitated just long enough to bring a pained expression to his face. He actually winced at me, like my lack of words had somehow physically hurt him. Well, this conversation was about as fun as I'd imagined it would be, I thought with a sigh.

"I don't know how to feel about anything she said," I answered honestly, "I mean, she isn't stupid."

"No," he said wearily, "She's not. She knows me very well."

I squinted at his face bathed in the light of the fire, trying to figure out what he meant by that.

He caught my look, "I am not an easy person to live with. I am aware of this, as I've been told over and over in my life."

There was just a hint of rejection in his stoic expression, and I bit my lip. In another context maybe I would find his words funny, but the way he said them, so seriously, I didn't know _how_ to find them.

It was obviously true, but I had never seen Lacroix truthful before.

Lacroix was usually lying. He used grand, sweeping words to convince people of grand, sweeping lies, and he did it well. This introspective, self-loathing tone he was using was one I had never heard before from his lips.

I glanced at the blood in the wine glass in his hand, thinking that maybe he had been drinking, though I couldn't smell any alcohol on his breath.

"Workaholic," he continued, "manipulative, cold, power-hungry. I can not deny any of the traits Jenibelle paints me for."

I looked away, down, not knowing what to say to any of it.

"Why, Juliet, do you stay here?"

I jerked upright at my name, met his gaze again. He had dropped his little mask and what lay underneath scared me. I was floored by the mix of pain and fury on his aristocratic features.

"What?" I asked softly.

"Why do you stay here?" he snapped.

I opened my mouth, "I uh..."

"It is not the power," he said, voice getting more desperate, "You have no political agenda. Yet still, you allow me to manipulate you again and again."

His accent was particularly thick as he talked, as if he were not taking the time to properly pronounce the English equivalents of the scathing French syllables in his head. He sat rigidly in his chair, leaning forward.

"_Why?"_ he demanded again at my silence.

I stared at him, unable to look away, "I... I know that you manipulate me," I said, "I guess I just don't care anymore. I mean, it's worth the..."

I trailed off, the words dying abruptly in my throat. I didn't have the tenacity to finish my thoughts, to say aloud that being manipulated by him was worth his occasional kind words, the shocking feeling of his mouth on mine.

His jaw tightened, as if that were not what he wanted to hear, as if it were only making him angrier.

He stood then and walked out of the room entirely. I was left sitting there, listening to Lacroix's footsteps clip out of the room at a hectic pace.

I sat in front of the fire, as hot and angry as Lacroix's mood swings, and listened to what I recognized as the office door slam shut.

I sighed, a long, ragged, lonely sound in the large room.


	9. Overdose

The room I was in could almost pass as a hospital room. I sat on what could easily pass as a hospital bed, my legs dangling over the side. Stark white sheets, a pillow case and a vast array of very human looking equipment hung behind me under harsh fluorescent lights.

The only thing missing was the folly of nurses and doctors that roved in packs around real hospitals. But since Lacroix had left me there 15 minutes ago, I had seen absolutely no one.

It was pretty weird that there would be any of this stuff in the safehouse in downtown Los Angeles. Even more strange, there was a whole floor devoted to the hospital rooms. I supposed there were ghouls who might need medical treatment at one time or another, but still. I was pretty sure vampires didn't need hospitals, just blood.

This was the type of place that tended to make my mind wander. Waiting for a doctor in an emergency room; I was no stranger to that. My mother had been quite the klutz. She was a dark haired woman nearly in her fifties, loving and quiet, but entirely scatterbrained.

She had once left the car on in the garage while she unloaded groceries from the dinged up, dark green sedan she drove. I'd found her passed out, her halo of dark hair covering her face.

I'd dragged her from the garage, turned off the car, and called 911. She had nearly died. Her first worry upon waking in the hospital had been about the milk still sitting on the floor of the garage. My father, a gruff, blunt man that would never have liked me dating someone as prissy as Sebastian, had told my mother in the hospital room, "Barbara, don't cry about the God damn spilt milk."

I smiled at the memory and played with a small fold in the sheets.

My mother had told me, when I was old enough to ask, that she had adopted me because she was infertile and she'd always wanted kids. Not for the first time, I wondered if she had chosen me out of the endless lineup of homeless children in LA because she had seen some of herself in me.

A deep ache formed in my chest that had nothing to do with the burn there.

* * *

><p>Dominic didn't take too long to see to me. He entered the room without knocking, and stood there for several seconds, regarding me, as if trying to place who I was.<p>

He still looked laughably young, even now that he was donning a light grey suit instead of the tattered clothing I had last seen him in. It seemed he could at any second tell me he was terribly late for his high school diploma and be off to his graduation ceremony.

The same white scars striped his face, neck, and hands, and he still looked upon me with the same horrible, hateful glare.

Then I guess it clicked, because the hate in his gaze receded a bit.

"Dolly," he rasped in his asthmatic voice.

"Hi Dominic." I offered him a small smile.

I took my shirt off, showed him the wound then, and told him what had happened. He didn't say anything emotional about or judge what had happened, though I called myself stupid at least three times.

"Looks a bit infected," Dominic said to me, dark eyes flicking back and forth over the wound, "Shouldn't... shouldn't be bleeding like that. Any pain?"

I nodded, "I'll be fine though."

I didn't want any pain medication, for the same reason I didn't want to drink the alcohol-laced blood on my bedside table. I would rather deal with the ache than be vulnerable in front of Lacroix at the moment.

I didn't know how much Dominic knew about my condition. I didn't know if he had connected the dots or not, like Lacroix had. He surely remembered the test he'd run for me, though, and he seemed to be treating me, medically speaking, as if I were a ghoul or human. I wondered what Lacroix had told him. I couldn't figure anything out from his expression.

* * *

><p>Dominic's scarred arm leaned over the equipment, his thick dark brows dipped in concentration. The chair he sat in squeaked as he moved in it.<p>

He had set to work getting everything ready. I would need intravenous broad-spectrum antibiotics, he had said. On a little metal stand by the bed, he was quickly preparing an IV.

I wondered what Dominic had been like as a human as I watched his swift careful fingers. Was he entirely sane before this? Did he know his uncle well before the guy had ruined Dominic's life? I felt a pang of pity for the new Malkavian Primogen. I hoped that he would have an easier time with his new role than his last.

Dominic briefly met my gaze with a smirk, "Do not worry, little dolly. I am nearly... nearly complete," he said, clearly misinterpreting my expression as one of worry for myself.

"I trust you Dominic," I replied. It was true. In fact, he was probably one of the only people, nonliving or living, that I did trust with a needle.

His wicked little smile faded at my assertion and he didn't look up again. I stared at his down turned lips. I couldn't figure out why that had made him sad.

I hardly winced when the needle stuck through the thin vein in the crook of my arm.

He pushed in the small syringe of clear liquid, the antibiotics, I assumed. After that was in my system, he took the empty syringe from my IV and hooked it up to a blue blood bag situated above my head.

I looked at the full bag with a sigh. I would be here awhile, it seemed. But at least there was no way for me to throw it up.

Dominic dug around in the cabinets on the wall across from the door, pulling out various bottles and tubes, mumbling under his breath. Finally he found what he was looking for- a small tube of something. He crossed the room and handed it to me, and I read the side. Silver sulfadiazine, it said.

"Something topical," he said, "... to take with you, little dolly."

He hesitated then, biting his lip and looking right into my eyes. He looked worried. He nodded to himself, mumbling again, and pulled out another syringe and a vial from his pocket. He took the safety cap off the needle with a pop.

I felt my brows furrow, "What is that?" I asked him.

He winced, and didn't answer or look at me.

"Dominic?" I said, feeling my heart race a little at his lack of response.

He plunged the needle into the rubber stopper on the vial, and drew a very precise amount of the liquid into the syringe, looking closely at it.

He hesitated over me again for one lengthy moment, the needle in his hand.

"Dominic," I said again, voice more strained now, "I don't want any pain medication."

Finally he sighed, and met my gaze with his pained, guilty eyes. He put it down on the metal stand beside the bed.

He didn't say anything else, just left the room after that, looking a bit angry.

As soon as the door closed behind him, I picked up the little vial of medication, and read the label. Midazolam, it said, 400mg/16 ML.

What the hell was that? I put it back on the metal stand with a little tink. Maybe it was something for the pain, but from the look Dominic had given me, I rather doubted it.

* * *

><p>Sometime halfway through my blood bag, none other than Eliza waltzed in. She was humming to herself when she did. She was dressed very casually, in just jeans and a halter top, showing off her lightly freckled shoulders. She looked very pretty, even in the harsh light of the room.<p>

She didn't knock, and when she turned around and looked at me, she seemed rather surprised.

"Oh... hello Juliet," she said.

She smiled but it didn't reach her eyes, as gray-blue as her brothers, except for the warmth that was usually there.

She sat the purse she was carrying, a fashionable red affair, on the chair by the door and crossed the distance between us. Her eyes lingered on the needle, full of Medazolam, that sat on the metal tray.

I watched her carefully. Why was she here, and why was she acting so strange, like Dominic had been? What the hell was in that syringe?

"How are you feeling?" she asked me.

"Fine," I answered stiffly.

The smile on her face weakened as she stood in front of me, hands clasped together in front of her faded-wash jeans.

"I heard about the blood hunt on Jenibelle," she said, her gaze momentarily darting down to the bandage on my chest.

"Blood hunt?" I repeated.

Sebastian hadn't said anything in the car to me at all, and certainly nothing about Jenibelle. Why hadn't he told me?

I wasn't sure how I felt about it. I didn't want Sebastian to think that he had to fight my battles for me, but at the same time, I felt rather powerless because I knew he sort of had to. I certainly wasn't capable of going out and kicking her ass myself. Just the thought of the woman filled me with something akin to terror.

"I never liked her," Eliza offered, "if it's any consolation."

I stared at Eliza's unwavering, pinched, fake smile, getting the feeling that she was dropping this news on me to distract me before I could ask her what was going on. It was an underhanded tactic, but I decided maybe it was worth changing the topic for.

"You didn't think Jenibelle was.. I don't know, maybe more of a match for someone like Sebastian?" I asked.

I wasn't sure whether I was referring to Jenibelle as a better childe, or a better Prince, or a better romantic partner, so I intentionally didn't clarify. I wasn't even sure that Eliza knew everything that had happened between Sebastian and I. I hadn't seen her in a very long time.

Eliza laughed a genuine laugh, and a real smile lit her face in response, "While it's true that my brother and that woman might be more of a match in their ability to dish out emotional damage, I think you make a healthier choice."

I couldn't disagree with her. Everytime I imagined Jenibelle and Sebastian together, after the nauseating bout of jealousy I mean, I imagined them fighting. Jenibelle had been so intense and moody and self centered, not unlike the Prince himself. I could imagine that their similar personality traits were like dynamite in the same room.

Still, weren't some of those personality traits helpful for the job description of Prince?

"Sebastian acts like he wants me to be his predecessor," I said to Eliza.

She nodded, seeming unsurprised, like she knew or at least expected it.

"I don't know if I have what it takes to do that," I said, quiet and honest. I watched the blood drain into my body from the little plastic tube in my arm.

"You're pretty reserved, sure," Eliza said, standing above me, "But I think a lot of vampires in LA are hoping you'll take his place."

"I don't..." I hesitated, unsure whether I should tell her.

She seemed to understand without me continuing though, because she nodded patiently.

"Sebastian will get over it if you decide not to take the job," she said, in a reassuring tone, "but you do realize he will probably have to take another childe?"

I'd never even thought about that. He _would_ have to figure someone else out. I felt uncomfortable with that, a bit jealous, but maybe it was for the best. I wasn't really his childe, after all. Maybe Sebastian deserved to have one that he actually wanted.

"I can't be Prince," I said, motioning to the wound over my chest, "I couldn't defend myself. Besides, don't you think the Camarilla Gods or whoever it is that makes the decisions would send someone to replace him?"

Eliza snorted, "I have no idea what you're talking about. The 'Camarilla Gods,' don't decide who gets to rule over a domain. Hopefully Sebastian doesn't die any time soon. The more experience you have, the better off you will be. Give it a hundred years and you might be surprised at what you can do."

What if I had a normal human lifespan? Maybe it wouldn't matter then. I wasn't sure if Eliza knew about the odd things that had been happening to me, so I didn't argue further. Her apparent faith in me was nice. Or was it her faith in her brother in shaping me?

Eliza glanced at the door, and then at her watch.

"Did Dominic say when he was coming back?" she asked me. She leaned back and forth on her heels, waiting rather impatiently.

"No," I said, "He filled the syringe over there, and just stood in front of me with the weirdest expression. Then he just walked out. Didn't say anything to me."

She stopped, looked kind of worried.

"Man," I shook my head, "I have had the weirdest conversations today. First Sebastian, now Dominic."

And you, I thought, looking up at Eliza, but didn't say it.

"Yeah," Eliza said slowly, "I had a pretty weird conversation with Sebastian today too."

She suddenly looked guilty, eyes sweeping my face.

"I guess I should tell you, Juliet," she said, "I didn't come all the way down here just to make small talk. Sebastian called me earlier this evening and asked me to take you back to San Diego with me."

I squinted at her, "What? Why?"

She shrugged, "I don't know. He sounded really... angry with you. Did you have a fight?" her voice was soft and quiet.

"I don't know what we had," I admitted, "if it was an argument or _what_. It was really weird. I told him what Jenibelle said to me," I pointed down to the mess of my chest, "when this happened."

Eliza nodded and I continued.

"Then he started yelling at me, telling me he was difficult to live with, and a workaholic and he was manipulating me...all this stuff."

Eliza shared my look of absolute disbelief.

"And then he started asking me why I was staying there when he was manipulating me. And I said," I stopped, looked into Eliza's incredibly concerned face, summed up my courage.

"I said I knew he manipulated me, and I didn't care because it was worth it. I mean, dealing with him was worth staying there with him. He stormed off after that and I guess called you."

There was a moment of stunned silence. I bit my lip, worrying it.

"Well," Eliza said finally, "That's rather... surprising."

"No offense, but I don't want to go to San Diego with you," I said with a small smile up at her.

"Yeah," she said, the guilt returning to her face, "He told me you might say that. He said that we should probably just not give you a choice."

She glanced at the needle and vial that Dominic had left on the metal stand by the hospital bed. I followed her gaze.

"Not give me a choice?" I repeated, the smile dropping from my face.

Then it hit me. Midazolam was a sedative. Sebastian had told Dominic to _drug _me so that Eliza would be able to drag me to San Diego without a fight.

I stared at the needle in complete disbelief.

"Listen," I said to Eliza. I stopped, trying to tone down the desperate tone of my voice, "Something's not right here. I need to talk to Sebastian."

She shook her head, her pretty face apologetic, "I'm sorry Juliet, I can't just..."

"I'll take the blame," I said, _"Please, Eliza."_

She hesitated, "Damn it, Juliet. Don't look at me like that. This isn't my fault!"

I wasn't sure _how_ exactly I was looking at her, but I imagined it was probably pretty desperately.

"It looks like Dominic isn't going to be coming back anytime soon," I said, thinking quickly, "So you're going to have to be the one to drug me against my will. Are you willing to do that? Or will you just dominate everybody into doing what you want like Sebastian would want you to?"

She glanced down at the needle guiltily, pressed her lips together in indecision.

"I'll take the blame," I repeated, "I was gone when you showed up. I must have figured it out before you got in here."

She nodded, slowly. She looked rather sick to her stomach.

I looked down at the IV, peeled the tape off it. Eliza's blue-grey eyes followed my movements as I yanked the needle out of my arm with a wince. I pressed the sleeve of my tee shirt down on the vein.

"Okay, Juliet," She said, "Sebastian is on the 15th floor. He's in an important meeting, so wait for him there. He's going to be..." she shook her head, "really,_ really_ pissed. He might not even talk to you. No matter what you insist, he's gonna be angry at me too. You might not be going back to San Diego with me. He'll make the sheriff take you or something."

I frowned, thinking. My brain was on overload. I would have to do something to make him listen to me then. I would have to barge in on his important meeting. He couldn't just _ignore _that.

What the fuck was wrong with him anyway? Drugging me and forcing me to go live with his sister? This was completely insane. One minute I was the "acting Prince," the next he was pushing me away. Not for the first time in our awkward dance, just short of relationshipville, but still. He had never pushed so hard before, never quite so desperately._  
><em>

I took the pressure off the vein, dropping the sleeve of my shirt from the bend in my arm, and when no blood welled up there, I pushed myself off the edge of the bed.

"Thank you Eliza," I said.

She nodded, looking determined, "Good luck."

I strode out into the hallway, and went over to the elevator, pressed the button to go down.

How many pointless job titles had Sebastian given me? How many excuses had he given me? Our relationship had changed so much over the past few months, even if he wanted to deny it, redefine it, manipulate it to something more comfortable for him.

I had gone from a mistake, to an employee, to a childe, to the acting prince, and finally, now it seemed he was trying to make me into nothing.

The elevator opened with a soft ding and I stepped inside of it, gathering up all the courage I had. Time to ruin a meeting.


	10. A Botched Meeting With Botched People

Surprise was not exactly the right word for the emotion that I felt, waiting in the elevator to go down to the 15th floor in the Camarilla safehouse.

Maybe the word I was looking for was more along the lines of disappointed. Exasperated. But not surprised. It was not anything I hadn't come to expect from Sebastian Lacroix after almost two months of knowing him.

Even as horrendous an idea as being drugged and taken away against my will. Or perhaps because it was horrendous. If Sebastian had asked me to leave, in a polite, non-demanding tone, now _that_ would have surprised me.

I couldn't figure out why he wanted me to leave LA, and it bothered me. Maybe he thought my answer earlier in the night wasn't good enough, wasn't sound enough of a reason to stay. Not that it was his call to make, but I was sure he thought it was. After all, he controlled the entire city. Why couldn't he control how I felt too?

I supposed that what really hurt wasn't even that he had tried to make me do something against my will, after all, he had been doing that since the first day I'd met him. What really pissed me off was that he was just trying to throw me away. He was trying to pawn me off on someone else so that I was no longer his problem, no longer his inconvenience.

He was being nice about it, sure. He knew Eliza would take me in without a second thought. He knew I would not be in danger there. He knew that I was friendly with her. He was kind enough to not throw me out on the streets on my ass.

But if he thought for one second that I would be happy there, when he had strung me along for all these weeks... well, he was wrong. Eliza was a near carbon copy of Sebastian, at least physically, and her piercing eyes, nearly the same shade as his, her pretty auburn hair and high cheekbones and accent, however slight it was... It would all hurt. I would never be able to get over Sebastian Lacroix if I went to live with his sister of all people.

And maybe he would come and visit me, to see how I was doing, to shake things up when life got boring. He would keep me close enough, but not so close as to be threatening. Like a little pet, like a bug in a glass jar or something that he could shake every once in a while. Oh, look how it flies around in there when I whack it against the wall. Neat.

I shook my head, no. If Sebastian wanted me out of his life, he would have to cut our ties completely. I was not going to be his pet, living with his sister until he was ready to come and provoke my human emotions. The emotions he didn't believe he was capable of feeling, but that would feed his ego nonetheless.

I was deep in thought as I got off the elevator on the correct floor.

I walked up to the only doors in the entire, long hallway. They were deep mahogany, and very big, and I knew that this was the right set of doors.

I stood outside them for a while, debating whether I should really hijack his meeting or not. I'd come this far, though, and so, I supposed, I might as well damn myself all the way.

* * *

><p>The second I walked into that room, I had the feeling that I was walking into a dangerous situation. Something was different about this meeting, I knew right away.<p>

I couldn't easily explain the feeling of unease I got, thick in the air there.

Maybe it was just the dozens of husky guards, standing in all the convenient corners of the room, blocking all the exits. They all raised their guns at me in one uniform motion, and dozens of clicks echoed throughout the room as they all cocked their guns at once.

I stood in the doorway rather awkwardly, feeling like I had made a mistake. Another mistake to add to my growing list. It was looking more like a book these days.

There were only three men that sat at the heavy mahogany table across from Lacroix. All of them wore suits, and looked important. Sebastian's little emotionless mask was on tight, and his expression was unreadable.

He didn't say anything, as though he were debating whether he should motion for the guards to go ahead and just shoot me.

Finally, after one long, tense moment he addressed me, "Juliet."

The guards dropped the barrels of their weapons away from my head, down to their sides, as if my name were a predetermined safeword or something.

"You're late," he said in a deadpan, monotone voice. It carried well in the tall room, under the glass chandelier high above us, the polished wood and panelled walls.

"Late?" I repeated, utterly confused.

"Yes," he said, allowing a carefully measured dose of irritation to enter into his voice, "This meeting was scheduled to begin nearly half an hour ago. I certainly did not expect you to interrupt us."

Uh, yeah sorry, I thought sarcastically. I've been upstairs dodging your attempts at sedating me.

Sebastian glanced at the men across the tawny table from him.

"Please forgive my associate," he said to them, "She does not intend to be discourteous."

The man in the middle smirked. At least, I think that is what he did. It was completely sarcastic, more of a sneer maybe. He looked to be in his late thirties or early forties, and had long, swept back greasy blonde hair behind a receding hairline.

His eyes were nearly black and they searched my face with a terrible, curious interest. I couldn't figure out why he was so interested in me, but the sinister look on his face made my gut twist, and I found myself unable to look away from it.

Sebastian cleared his throat pointedly and my eyes flicked back to him. He was glaring now.

"Juliet," he said, sharp and harsh, "Sit down, take notes, and _behave._"

My legs bolted into action at his words, but my mind reeled.

I quickly crossed the room. As I pulled out the chair beside Lacroix, I saw the muscles in his jaw and neck tighten, the only nonverbal cue he seemed to be completely unable to control. He was angry with me.

Why was Sebastian going out of his way to hide the argument he was surely itching to have with me from these men? Were they that important?

The men looked at me with varying degrees of amusement. The one in the center, the one that had looked at me creepily, seemed to be their ringleader. He sat directly across from Sebastian.

Sebastian plopped a stack of papers and a pen in front of me on the table without another word. To take notes, I gathered, looking over the blank notepad. I picked up the pen to write the date at the top, but couldn't think of it.

When I looked up, the man sitting across from us, the ringleader, stared at me still, with that same, intense smirk on his face. I looked away, trying to quell the fear in the pit of my stomach. What the hell was his problem?

"Your _associate_ seems afraid of me," he said to Sebastian. The greasy ringleader's voice rather matched his face, low and amused.

I couldn't hide my look of complete disgust. What kind of person was amused by fear?

Sebastian's harsh blue eyes met mine and he turned to glance at me, to gauge how fearful I looked, or maybe a non verbal warning to be quiet. It was hard to tell when he was so expressionless.

"Yes, please excuse Juliet. She is rather timid I'm afraid," Sebastian said.

I glared at him, beginning to get pissed off. They were both talking about me as if I were not even in the room.

Sebastian completely ignored my glare, "This is Matthias Casaneda. He is the Prince of Las Vegas, and has generously agreed to provide his counsel in the upcoming war," he told me hurriedly, seeming to try and move on.

I looked again at the guy that sat across from Sebastian. A Prince, good for him, but he creeped me the hell out, and I rather hoped he would not be staying very long.

"You have such beautiful, large, brown eyes," Matthias said, staring intently at me and leaning forward over the table, "Like a deer. I wonder, if hunted, would you run like a deer?"

It was such an odd, creepy thing to say that I didn't say anything at all. I just stared, completely taken aback.

He seemed to actually want me to answer though, because he continued staring at me. I was suddenly quite glad that the table was between us.

"What's wrong with you?" I stuttered out after a few tense seconds, "Are you malkavian or what?"

"_Juliet," _Sebastian's voice was sharp and disciplinary. He glanced at me, a clear warning in his eyes to shut the hell up.

"It's alright, Sebastian. Allow her to speak freely to me. I find it humorous," Matthias said.

Matthias turned his gaze back to me, "I share your Prince's bloodline, little deer. It is interesting that you mention malkavians, though, as I once diablerized one."

What do you say to something like that? In human terms, it's like admitting you once killed and cannibalized part of your friend. The silence that followed his proclamation was uncomfortable to the entire room, even the vampires that sat beside Matthias, but the news didn't seem to shock anyone but me.

"It was a special circumstance," Matthias explained with a demented smile, "A blood hunt as it were, many years ago. Still, I find myself having... inescapable urges at times."

I swallowed.

The vampire sitting to his right, a bald, fat but otherwise nondescript guy, quietly snickered and I wondered if Matthias was just trying to mess with my head. Somehow though, from the look on his face, I rather doubted it.

Matthias seemed to be done torturing me for the moment, as Sebastian captured his attention again. Their meeting resumed, and I found myself shaking too badly to write any notes. From fear or anger, I couldn't say.

Sebastian seemed completely unphased by Matthias' demeaning attitude towards me. He had neither defended me nor looked uncomfortable with it, and I had a feeling he had intentionally thrown me out to the sharks.

"Our runners have informed us that at least 50 of the anarchs have gathered at that bar, the Last Round. This is an opportune time," Sebastian said. "It is a small bar, tucked away in the corner of the street, beside a hobo camp. The kine there cannot be alerted of our presence."

Matthias nodded, "Consider it done. My army is the only organized group of its kind this side of the country for a reason."

"I intend to take care of this... issue... as swiftly as possible," Sebastian added, voice measured and careful.

"We have little time before sunrise tonight," Matthias responded, "But that will suit us fine."

Sebastian nodded, pleased.

I looked at the profile view of his face, and tried to read his expression. Did he really mean he wanted Matthias' army to indiscriminately slaughter all of the anarchs in the Last Round?

Although I knew we were at war, it still seemed so... wrong to me. I didn't particularly like the anarchs that hung out in the Last Round, but I still felt guilty that I could have, even passively, contributed to their demise. Some of them might have, but surely not _all_ of those vampires deserved to die.

My voice was small and unsure when I spoke again, "Why won't you give them a trial.. or.._something?_ What about the innocent anarchs?"

"Innocent anarchs," Matthias laughed, cruel and sarcastic."Your little deer is so cute," he said to Sebastian.

I ground my teeth together, glared at him over the table. "Will you stop calling me that?" I said vehemently, "My name is Juliet."

"No, I think I will call you a deer," he told me forcefully. My blood boiled at his smug expression.

"Well then, I think I will call you an asshole," I shot back.

Silence hung in the air and tension crackled between us for several long seconds.

I finally broke the death stare I was locked in with Matthias to glance at Sebastian. He was staring at me as though I had done something pretty stupid. He seemed to be utterly shocked into silence, beyond words, which was pretty odd, I thought. I'd done more shocking things than cuss at someone.

"Juliet, please leave," Sebastian said after a moment, snapping out of it. His emotionless mask slipped neatly back into place. "Wait for me in the hallway, as I have a few things to discuss with you."

_Yeah, I bet,_ I thought.

I hesitantly obeyed, getting up, feeling like the shit was about to hit the huge metaphoric fan.

I had certainly done what I'd burst into the meeting room to do. Sebastian couldn't ignore me now. He was going to talk to me, oh boy was he going to talk to me. His face promised more. But I had a fighting chance at convincing him not to send me away.

I sighed as I closed the door behind me, hoping I hadn't made him angry enough to counteract the whole point of the rebellious act.

* * *

><p>I didn't have to wait long, maybe ten minutes. I guess Matthias was pretty eager to get out there and kill some anarchs before sunrise. He would probably really enjoy messing with their heads before he sawed through their necks.<p>

Still, they were the longest ten minutes of my life. I spent the time pacing, passing the brass doorknobs in the hallway over and over in my peripheral vision. I thought about what I would say to Sebastian. In my head I mapped out dozens of different ways the conversation could go, from the very best to the very worst.

I still didn't feel very prepared when the gaggle of vampires stepped out of the meeting room, led by Lacroix. Matthias seemed too busy to continue antagonizing me, as he only gave me a passing smirk. His followers looked right through me.

Sebastian waited for them to leave the long hall and watched the elevator doors close behind them before he turned to me.

"I assume, since you are here, that Eliza has failed in her duties as your caretaker," he said.

"Eliza?" I repeated, summing up my best confused look. I had practiced it, and I hoped it was good enough. I couldn't let Sebastian think this was her fault. "Is that who you sent to drag me away?"

He stared at me, blue-grey eyes sweeping my face, and didn't answer. His lack of response was aggravating.

"I saw the Midazolam," I said, stumbling over the pronunciation of the drug, "Dominic couldn't bring himself to give it to me. He just walked out. Guess he has more a conscience than you. I mean, come on, drugging me and sending me out of town? Are you sure we don't work for the Sabbat?"

Sebastian allowed me to make my little speech and when I was done he shook his head. A little scoff worked its way up his throat at the Sabbat comment.

"A nice performance," he said, "But I rather doubt you figured all that out yourself. That you are trying to protect Eliza from me is ...endearing, but ineffective."

He looked a bit disturbed at that last part, like I was doing some kind of voodoo mind control on him, making him think I was endearing while we were having a fight. How dare I do that to him?

"As for Dominic, I am unsurprised that you elicited his benevolence. You seem to have a way of bringing out the most absurd human emotions in creatures that are supposed to be dead to them, do you not?"

I glared at him, stifling the urge I had to roll my eyes at his tone. Those pesky emotions. If only he could get rid of them as easily as he could get rid of me.

"This isn't their fault," I argued quietly, "It's yours."

He sighed, and a little bit of anger pushed its way through into his gaze.

"Your behavior in that meeting has pushed my ability to be civil to the very edge of its limits," he said and it sounded like a warning, "At any rate, we cannot have this conversation here."

"My behavior?" I said, as soon as he was finished. I could hardly keep myself from interrupting him, "That guy, Matthias, is a complete jerk. I don't regret anything I said. He treated me like crap in there and you know it."

"He was hazing you, attempting to provoke you," Sebastian replied in a banal, impatient tone, "It is common practice among kindred towards the youngest members of their sect. It is a sign of acceptance."

"He was_ not _joking," I said, remembering the way he had tried to dehumanize me, "He doesn't seem like he has any humanity left. Was he a nazi as a human or what?"

Sebastian glared at me. He looked like he was reaching the point of physical violence, so I held my tongue, deciding not to compare Matthias to hitler or satan or anything along those lines.

"He is one of the best combat strategists I've ever known and you will treat him with the same respect you treat me," he said, very seriously.

"What does it matter?" I replied, "You're planning on sending me away anyhow."

Sebastian glanced at his watch with a flick of his wrist, "Yes well, you have successfully delayed your departure tonight. It is far too late for the plane to reach San Diego before sunrise."

He seemed to hesitate a moment, "Would you like me to call Eliza so that you can stay with her at the hotel room she has surely procured by now?"

"No!" I said, exasperated. I was a shade shy of yelling, "That's the whole point! I don't want to go anywhere with Eliza! I want to go home, with you, where I belong."

His eyes softened a bit at my angry outburst.

"One more day," he agreed.

* * *

><p>Author's Note: So I had a few days off this last week and wrote a lot of this out. I'll be posting the chapters in one large chunk... Not to overwhelm anyone or anything. Also sorry for the absence of author's notes. Not sure if I should even apologize for that, but I like them. Probably because I like talking to myself lol. Anyway, thanks for reading!<p> 


	11. Manipulation

The car ride was tense. I felt like crying. It had been such a long day, and so many people had yelled at me, belittled me, demoralized me. If one more person did so, even Sebastian, I was sure I was going to snap.

I sat on the far side of the luxury car, unable to bring myself to trust Sebastian enough to sit beside him. I was afraid he might try to jab me with another needle or something. He glanced at the space I'd put between us and his lips down turned ever so slightly.

I had to wonder what exactly he'd expected from me.

The ride was silent. After a while, Sebastian didn't seem all that angry any more. He looked as tired and stressed out as me.

I looked at the city from behind bulletproof glass, on comfortable luxury leather beside a man that wasn't quite a man. It was the city I grew up in and I was thinking it might very well be the last time I'd ever see it.

There weren't any stars visible in the murky downtown LA air, but there were plenty of lights winking at me as the car passed the buildings, the clubs, the bars, the streetlights. That was good enough for me.

* * *

><p>I sat on my bed, thinking it was probably the last time I'd ever sleep in it. The soft, expensive comforter beckoned me to lie down. I knew sleep would not come easy though, and I didn't want to watch the clock inch closer and closer to the time I would be leaving.<p>

I wondered if I could bring a carry-on bag onto the plane. I'd have to ask, and pack the little bit of personal possessions I'd managed to acquire over the past few months. It wasn't much. Some clothes, the pretty dress Sebastian had given me the night we'd met the primogen, the jewelry.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, willed the tears away.

I needed booze. Desperately.

I went out into the living room and stopped at the sight of Sebastian with a bottle of wine. He must have had the exact same idea. It was an open bottle of 'Bloody Mary.' He hunched over the coffee table, pouring it into a wine glass.

He looked up at me, "Why are you not asleep?"

"Why aren't_ you_?"

He looked away from me then, accepting that as an answer, I guess. I sounded pretty bitchy, pretty catty, even to my own ears. He didn't seem angry anymore but I needed to be careful. If I pissed Sebastian off again, he might just tell me he didn't want to hear anything I had to say.

And what did I have to say? Well, I knew I wouldn't be saying it sober.

I looked around the living room at all the expensive shit I'd never see again. A museum of pre-American furniture, a lot of which I was sure Sebastian or his family had owned for many centuries

I looked at everything with a sad nostalgia, as though I'd already left.

I was surprised when a wine glass full of alcoholic wine was thrust into my vision. Sebastian raised his eyebrows at me when I didn't take it.

I gave him a weak smile and took the cool, smooth glass, "Thanks."

I took a large sip.

"Just tell me why," I said, as I wiped the excess blood from my lips with the back of my hand, "Are you getting sick of me already?"

"No," he said, kind of tired-sounding. He brought his hand to my cheek, and I stared at him. His fingers were gentle and cold and I found myself leaning into them despite my reservations about doing so. Was it the effect of his blood in me, or was it something else that motivated me?

"Until the war is finished, it is too dangerous for you here."

I squinted at him, leaning down to put the wine glass on the coffee table, using it as an excuse to pull away from his hand. He dropped it to his side.

"You were planning on inviting me back to Los Angeles?" I said, "After the war?"

He nodded, expression heated and intense, "Of course."

I dropped my gaze away from his, trying to hide my surprise.

"So you aren't going to make me into your bug," I muttered to myself. I was relieved, so fucking relieved that he wasn't trying to throw me away.

"_What?" _He squinted harder at me.

"Oh... uh, nothing. Just something I... nevermind."

He shook his head, seemed to drop the odd comment. He brought the wine glass to his lips, and I watched the dark liquid pool into his mouth. His adams apple bobbed as he drank over a fine layer of reddish five o clock shadow.

I unconsciously licked my lips. His mouth would be cold on mine if he kissed me, and now he would taste sweet, like alcohol.

He paused in drinking to stare at me, blue eyes hard, and I quickly looked away. Why the hell had my thoughts gone there?

"You assumed that I would leave you with Eliza indefinitely?" He asked as I attempted to return back to reality.

"Yeah," I said, "I mean... Why else would you _drug _me unless you thought I'd put up a pretty big fight?"

He didn't look like he felt bad about it. No look of searing guilt came over his features like it had with Dominic and Eliza.

"You _are_ putting up a fight," he said.

I shrugged. Maybe I was, but I was entirely within my rights. Though I felt admittedly extremely relieved to learn that he hadn't been trying to get rid of me permanently, he had still tried to drug me and it was still a shitty thing to do.

"It is imperative that you leave as soon as the sun sets tomorrow. Your safety is paramount."

"My safety?" I echoed.

"Yes, something unexpected happened in Las Vegas."

He paused, probably just to be dramatic. He took another gulp of blood-wine, and I waited impatiently.

"The sheriff was killed."

"Oh," I said, frowning, "What happened?"

He shook his head, looking a little worried, "I do not know. Matthias believes that it could have been one of the sects of anarchs living in his city, perhaps responding to what is happening here."

"Did you talk to the anarchs there?" I asked.

He glared over the top of his wine glass, which was looking nearly empty, "No, Juliet, I did not _talk _to them."

I shrugged, thinking he could have at least tried to be civil.

"What does this all have to do with me?"

"My first and best line of defense is gone. I came back to find you rather... hurt," he said, wincing, "It is obvious that even I, and a hundred armed guards could not keep you from harms way. You somehow _attract_ it. The sheriff is gone and you would be an easy target in the anarchs' minds. I can no longer shoulder the responsibility of your death."

"Maybe I do _attract_ trouble," I said, looking at him pointedly. He didn't seem to get my little joke, as he took the wine bottle and poured more wine into his glass. I sighed.

First of all, his argument was stupid. If it was true that I attracted trouble, then I would be in danger no matter where I went. Second, he was going to get so hammered that nothing I said was going to matter to him anyway.

"Could you just..." I frowned as he dumped the entire rest of the bottle in the wine glass, filling it all the way to the top.

He paused, reading my expression, and slowly set the wine bottle back down on the coffee table with a heavy-handed clink.

"Yes, Juliet?" He raised his eyebrows, as though he was welcoming confrontation.

"Nevermind," I mumbled.

"Does it bother you that I am purposely making an attempt to get drunk?"

I shook my head, "Do whatever you want, you will anyway, but at least wait until we're done. I don't want to have this discussion with you drunk. It's bad enough already."

Sebastian set the full glass of wine down on the coffee table and I stared at it, wondering if he'd actually listened to me.

He moved closer, way closer, and I had to stop myself from jolting backwards into the wall. He didn't _look_ angry that I'd back talked to him, but he was sneaky like that sometimes, and I felt suspicious.

For a long time, he didn't say anything to me whatsoever, just stood there, uncomfortably close. He was so close that I could easily reach out and touch him. I couldn't meet his gaze as I waited for whatever he was going to do.

He smelled expensive, like he usually smelled. It was some kind of cologne, I was sure, and now it was mixed with the harsh, sweet scent of wine. It was a scent I had come to find rather comforting, despite me feeling trapped between the wall and him.

His shoulders were broad and cloaked in his suit, and I felt small in front of him. Sebastian had this way of making himself appear larger anyway. He had a presence, and he didn't turn it off even for me. Maybe he couldn't turn it off.

He loomed a little bit closer. For a second, I thought he might be trying to intimidate me, like maybe he was pissed after all, but he still didn't say anything.

He seemed to be waiting for something, but for what I couldn't imagine.

I slowly glanced up at his face, hesitant to see his expression.

His lips twitched into a faint smile, as if that were what he'd been waiting for.

I briefly considered asking him what he was doing just standing in front of me like this, waiting for me to look at him, but his blue-gray eyes had ensnared me now, and I found myself unable to look away.

He was giving a look that I had trouble placing, not quite one of curiosity, but close. It was as though he was trying to read my mind. At the intensity of his eyes, I thought he might succeed.

His gaze travelled away then, down slightly, to my lips and my heart began racing, pounding heavily in my head. I knew he could hear it too because his slight smile inched wider until it was more of a smirk.

I wondered whether he was smirking because he was feeling haughty that he could practically read my thoughts, or because he'd insinuated the direction my thoughts had taken.

Either way, it was rather frustrating that he seemed to be able to play with my head without even touching me.

Fucking ventrues.

But then he did touch me, trailing his hand lightly up my arm, carefully gauging my reaction, as though he got more of a thrill out of my face than the feeling of our skin meeting.

His hand was cold, but not unpleasant. Though he was just touching my arm, the way he was doing it was nearly inappropriate. He was _rubbing_ me. It was affectionate and slow and the way one would touch a lover. It was not platonic by any means. I felt my breathing pick up, and I tried not to hyperventilate.

He stopped after a while, and gently pulled me forward by my forearm, closer, until there was literally less than an inch separating us. He did so lightly, slowly, and then stopped, maybe giving me a chance to escape if I wanted to.

I didn't want to.

We stood there for a few seconds, summing one another up, and my stomach was coiled tight. I had to take deep, deliberate breaths or I would forget to breathe at all.

I watched, absolutely mystified, as he pushed his left fang down on the side of his lower lip, hard.

He winced ever so slightly and his hand pushed up between us, to keep his lip in the correct position, so that his fang would not slip and cut him more than he meant for it to, I guess. Blood welled up there as he pulled the fang back out of his lip.

When his fingers drifted away from his mouth, there was a little blood there too and he rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, willing it away.

I stared at the blood on his lip, just a heavy drop waiting for gravity to push it down his chin.

And then his face got closer to mine, and I felt my breath stop altogether as I waited in anticipation.

My eyes drifted closed as our lips met. He allowed the blood to drip onto my lips, and my tongue tentatively snaked out to taste it. It tasted as good as I remembered, making my entire mouth tingle as I worked it around over my tastebuds. Sweet, but metallic. Indescribable. It shut down my thoughts like last time for a few long moments. The taste of the blood and the soft feeling of his lips was a potent combination.

The small amount of blood he'd given me, just a drop, evaporated quickly and I felt myself aching for more of it. I groaned aloud, thinking maybe I could just bite him to draw more out.

But then, he probably wouldn't find me trying to bleed him dry from the mouth very romantic. And perhaps more importantly, he might not give me any more this way. So with that thought, I stopped myself from latching onto his lip like a leech.

Sebastian took the opportunity, my momentary lapse in movement, to shove his tongue into my mouth, practiced and careful. His tongue grazed mine and I nearly recoiled in shock at the feeling of it. I had been kissed before but it was nothing like this. Sebastian kissed me softly but desperately, and he did so well.

For someone who claimed to not have had any relationships for a long time, he sure seemed practiced enough. Then again, was there anything that Sebastian Lacroix couldn't do expertly? Maybe it was just a French thing. Or a vampire thing. Or a ventrue thing. Or all of the above. I wasn't sure but shit, it felt good.

The feeling of his tongue was nearly as addictive as his blood, and I was beginning to suspect that it was just _him_ I needed.

My fingers had somehow found their way up to his neck, cold and muscled, and I timidly began touching his hair as he kissed me. I guess he liked that because he pressed me closer, ever mindful of the burn mark just under my left collarbone.

He allowed me to fold into him, his hands low on my hips, stopping me from melting to the floor or melting completely into him.

And then, being the graceful butterfly that I am, I grazed the tip of one of his fangs with my tongue. By the time I felt it happen, I knew there wasn't much I could do to stop it. I felt a sharp pain, like a papercut on my tongue, and then I tasted metal.

Whoops.

My blood flooded both our mouths and he suddenly, jerkily pushed me away from him in one solid motion. I stumbled backwards a bit. A pained expression crossed his features, as if he had been the one to cut his tongue open instead of me.

I sighed, not even trying to hide the longing look of disappointment. I felt like spitting the blood in my mouth out, but swallowed it instead. It didn't taste very good, not in comparison to his.

His gaze didn't leave my face as he composed himself, and I found myself unable to look away as well. He straightened his jacket, brushed away imaginary crumbs. There was a small smear of blood on his upper lip he didn't seem to realize was there.

"A parting gift," he said simply, his voice a bit deeper, a bit more husky than normal.

"Uh, the blood, you mean?" I said.

He nodded.

"Interesting method of delivery," I said under my breath.

His lips quirked upwards again but he didn't say anything further about it.

I swallowed, stomach in knots. We stood a good foot apart now and I felt I needed to lean against the wall or something for support or I would crumple to the floor.

"Why did you do that?" I asked, very quietly.

"Did you not enjoy it?" he asked. I was sure he already knew the answer to that, so why was he asking? Just for the ego boost?

"Don't answer my question with another question," I said, after a long moment of thinking, "I really doubt you did it just to make me feel good."

He scoffed lightly, but didn't deny it. "I did it because I find myself unable to ignore you when you silently beg me to."

I raised my eyebrows and looked away. I wanted to deny that I had been doing that but I realized that my little glances at his lips as he drank blood from his wine glass earlier in the night had not gone overlooked.

I nodded, giving him that.

"You're buttering me up," I said, glaring a bit half-heartedly, "so that I won't fight you anymore."

He didn't deny that either.

"Perhaps," he admitted, "But must I always have an agenda in your mind? Can I not be acting of my own pleasure?"

I nearly began laughing at him, but managed to settle on a smile instead. Him not having an agenda. That was a good one. "Do you think I'm stupid?"

"No," he said with a sigh, looking a bit peeved that I was laughing at him, "This conversation is becoming inane."

"Then end it. Send me off to my room, since you've so thoroughly distracted me with thoughts of your kiss."

He hesitated, maybe sensing by my sarcastic tone that the whole thing was backfiring on him.

I watched him think about it for a while, avoiding my gaze.

"You know that I would rather die next to you than be sent away," I professed quietly.

At least then I could say I tried to stop you from making a few selfish, stupid decisions before we went, I thought.

He stared at me, looking a bit sickened.

I wondered if he had already had too much wine or if it was the idea that I was _that_ in love with him. I thought it was probably the latter. Maybe he was thinking it was pretty crappy and that I was acting like a ghoul or something.

For a second, I thought he might start lecturing me. I really hoped we wouldn't have a repeat of our earlier conversation, where he would begin listing all his flaws. Maybe this time he'd be honest and tell me he wanted me to get on a plane and get the hell away from him before he had a chance to fuck me up.

But he didn't. He just straightened up, and cleared his throat and said, "Yes, well... "

He didn't meet my gaze. It wasn't a confident response. I was freaking him out with my emotions. I needed to try another strategy. I needed to speak in a language that Lacroix would understand. If there was one thing the man understood, it was blackmail.

"You can't protect me from everything," I reasoned quickly, "If you send me away every time things get dangerous, I'm not going to learn anything by the time you die."

I dropped my voice down to a serious, threatening level, "Either you accept that I'm going to be in danger most of the time, or you need to find yourself another Prince- someone else who you can stand to see in danger- because I won't take your place unprepared."

Sebastian didn't seem at all offended that I'd used the position he'd given me against him. He was probably thinking it was a very ventrue thing to do. Maybe he was even proud of me. If he were really my sire, I imagined he might say '_Aw, Juliet, you've become such a little backstabbing bitch. You make me so proud!'_

"I trust no one else to take my place," he said without hesitation, snapping me out of my reverie.

I swallowed his compliment with nothing to say about it. Of course he trusted me, he had near-complete control over my life.

"Then let me stay Sebastian," I said.

He looked rather surprised that I used his first name, a bit suspicious about it even. I suppose it was the first time I'd called him by his first name aloud. He hesitated, but I could feel his decision looming.

Hoping to appeal to his ego, I tacked on at the end, in a halting, unsure voice, "please?"

"Yes," he said, voice uncharacteristically soft, "fine."

I couldn't believe that had worked. I should have tried it a long time ago, I decided. Begging was degrading but desperation deadened my feelings about it.

I crossed the room, passed the coffee table and sunk down into the sofa, with a relieved sigh. I felt like I'd won the lottery or something. Winning an argument with the haughty Prince was about that rare.

But now I had damned myself to being his replacement. I had agreed to it, even though I didn't want it, and I didn't know how I was going to manage to get out of it.

* * *

><p>I watched Sebastian get steadily less and less sober the rest of the night, and decided to join him in his endeavor to forget his problems. It wasn't a healthy coping mechanism, but I figured if you can't beat em, join em.<p>

We didn't talk about the events of the night- the fact that he'd tried to drug me against my will and I'd ruined his meeting in response. I suppose we were pretty even on that front anyway.

We didn't talk about Jenibelle or the wound on my chest. We didn't talk about Nines Rodriguez or the war.

We didn't talk about our feelings.

We didn't talk about much at all, really. We just sat there together, drinking until almost noon. I didn't drink anywhere near as much as Sebastian, who holds his liquor deceptively well, and I was pretty smashed.

Eventually I looked over at him and Sebastian had passed out on the sofa.

I was tired and drunk, and I didn't feel like going all the way to my room. I crawled close to him on the couch, and hesitated over his sleeping form. He looked so vulnerable there, with his neck exposed, head tossed back and slightly to the side.

After only half a moment's indecision, I carefully slid in between his arm and side, leaning my head against his chest. No heartbeat resounded there, which, oddly enough, I found incredibly comforting.

In less than a minute, I was asleep.


	12. Awkward Situations

I was tired. Not like normal, just got up from a full nights sleep tired, but more along the lines of got ran over by a train tired.

Worse still, I was stiff. My arm was completely numb. I tried to move it around, to ease the pins and needles shooting up my fingers, but I couldn't. It was trapped under me.

I wanted to snuggle back into the bed and go back to sleep for a few more hours. I had been having the nicest dream. I tried to remember what it had been about, but struggled. My memory was too hazy. My head was killing me and my stomach rolled with each pounding ache. I sighed, accepting that going back to sleep wasn't going to happen.

"Fuck I'm hung over," I muttered.

"Hm," I heard Sebastian say next to my ear.

I opened my eyes, my heart jumping into my throat as I remembered what I'd done last night. I'd cuddled up next to Lacroix in his sleep. I'd force-cuddled with him. I winced, both because of the bright light in the room, and the realization.

Not only that, but we were still in the same position. I was still smashed between his arm and his side and he effectively had me trapped there. I lifted my head from where I'd laid it last night on his chest, and squinted into his face- which was, unfortunately only a few inches from mine.

"Juliet," he said slowly, his voice groggy, "Would you care to explain why we are in this particular situation?"

"Not ...really," I said with a halting smile.

He narrowed his blue eyes at me, frowning. He looked more disheveled than I'd ever seen him. Dark circles cast their shadows under his eyes and his hair was messy. I knew from his appearance that he had only just woken up too. There was no way he would have stayed like this in any other situation.

"I remember very little after our talk," he admitted, "and I would like to be sure that with my lack of inhibitions nothing inappropriate happened between us."

I shook my head, feeling my cheeks heat as they surely reddened, "We're both dressed, aren't we?"

He raised his eyebrows at me, "I do not need to undress you to..." He cleared his throat suddenly, looking away, probably deciding that he didn't want to go there.

God, please kill me, I thought, sinking lower into the couch.

"Nothing happened. I was just going to sleep." I explained quietly, "You had already passed out so I just kind of did too."

He nodded, looking kind of relieved, and thankfully, didn't look angry at me for causing the entire awkward situation.

I wasn't sure what to do with my head but I was getting tired of holding it up, craning my neck in an awkward position to look at him. His face was right next to mine, which made me feel even more nauseous than I already felt. I set my head back down on his chest, for lack of a better option.

I felt Sebastian's fingers run through my hair, and shivered. What the fuck? Sebastian had never touched me so casually before. He couldn't be doing it absent-minded. I tried not to hyperventilate.

After a few long, agonizing moments, he stopped. I thought he would probably ask me to move off of him so that he could get up, but he didn't. I ignored my arm's cries to be let out from under the weight of my body.

"If you insist upon staying, with the current state of matters as they are, there are certain conditions you must agree upon."

"Conditions? Like what?" I asked wearily. I craned my head up again to look at his face.

"Firstly and foremost, you cannot continue speaking to the Prince of Las Vegas the way you did in that meeting last night. That he spared your life after you cursed at him is nothing short of miraculous, I assure you."

Sebastian spoke softly, obviously not looking for an argument, but also because of the proximity to my face.

"Okay," I said, in the same subdued tone, "But you can't try to drug me again. I'm staying here, and I'm not Jenibelle, as much as you and her both would like to think I am."

He frowned a bit, but slowly nodded.

"Yes," he said, "I can see that."

He moved on, apparently not feeling it necessary to explain further. I took it as an agreement, and I had every intention of holding him to it.

"You will not be allowed alone for any length of time. Not at least until I find a suitable replacement for the sheriff. I am certain we should find you a permanent body guard as well... One that will not allow you to wander off."

His expression showed no signs of willingness to negotiate, and was kind of accusing. Okay, so I'd wandered off in the middle of a full out vampire war, with no protection, while most everyone wanted to kill us. Did that really make me untrustworthy? His face said yes, so I didn't even bother asking.

I sighed, thinking of how much it would suck to be constantly tailed by someone. Even suckier, everything I did would be relayed to Sebastian. I would have to be very careful. I thought about whining but I didn't want to push my luck too far and bitch my way back to San Diego.

I splayed my fingers across Sebastian's chest, thinly veiled by his undershirt. I played with the idea of unbuttoning one of the buttons there, but couldn't get up the courage.

"Can I at least choose who I want for the body guard?" I asked.

Sebastian narrowed his eyes, and regarded me with suspicion as though what I'd asked was some kind of trick question. Like if he said yes, I was going to start laughing in his face, grab the nearest inanimate object and say 'Ha! You said I could choose! I choose this cup.'

"Within reason," he said finally, ever reluctant to give me total control over something in my life.

He stared at my hand, still over his chest, cautiously. Like he didn't trust that either.

He pushed himself up on his elbows, clearly meaning for us both to get up. I sat up completely, rubbing my numb arm, the one that had been awkwardly pushed underneath me. He swung his legs over the side of the couch, and sat up, freeing me.

"How is your burn?" Sebastian asked me, not turning to look at my face. He rubbed his eyes with the flats of his palms.

I pressed my hand over the lump of bandages under my shirt, and was surprised when I felt no pain.

"Doesn't hurt," I said.

"I would like to see it again," he turned slightly on the couch, to look at me, to gauge my reaction, "... If that is acceptable to you."

He sounded like he had hastily tacked on that last part to the end, and it almost made me laugh. But he was trying, and he hadn't demanded me to show him, and that was _something._

"Yeah, alright," I said, unable to keep the humor out of my voice.

We both jumped when the front door opened. Sebastian turned to glance at the hall, eyes and expression instantly unforgiving and hard. He didn't seem to be nervous about the intruder, stance still relaxed, so I tried not to jump to conclusions. Still, it could be any number of people coming to kill either one of us, or more likely both.

Eliza's head poked around the corner, her smile bright, drawing a relieved smile from me too.

"God help me," I heard Sebastian say under his breath. He put his head into his hands, as if this were the very last person he wanted to see.

Eliza quickly crossed the room to stand in front of the couch. She put a hand on her hip, looking very motherly. She was dressed in another informal but expensive looking outfit, jeans that were certainly made by some big-time designer and a low-cut, long sleeved shirt.

"Hey you two," she said slowly, glancing between us. I guess between our mussed hair and clothes and the way we were sitting, me nearly behind Sebastian, abnormally close on the couch, it wasn't hard to figure out that something had happened. Probably not what she had thought had happened, but all the same.

"Sorry to interupt but I was told to come here at this specific time and pick up a specific person." She raised her eyebrows, "Will this service be needed anymore?"

"No," Sebastian said, low and fast. He was scowling and staring at the floor, head still in his hands.

She nodded, "Well, in that case, since I came all the way out here _for no reason_, I might as well hang out and do something fun with you guys."

"We are very busy today, Eliza," Sebastian said, voice strained and annoyed, like he was talking to a small child.

"Yeah, well, I can_ see_ that," she said, a bit heatedly.

"We have a meeting in a few hours." he explained, just as angrily.

I looked between them, the sets of nearly identical blue eyes with near identical expressions, and swallowed.

Eliza shrugged, "I can work with that. Juliet, why don't we-"

"Unfortunately," he interrupted her, "Juliet has proven herself unfit to be left alone, even for mere hours. And especially not with_ you_ after yesterday's... fiasco," he shook his head like he still couldn't believe his amazing plan to kidnap me and send me away had been brought down. Yeah, because it was so ingenious in the first place.

I glared at him but he didn't seem to notice or care.

"Just let me take a shower and get dressed," I said to Eliza, "and we can talk here."

Eliza cocked her head to the side, a confused expression on her face, and Sebastian grimaced, as if he already knew what she was thinking.

"Juliet are you _living here _now?" She asked. She grinned at me.

I shrugged, "Pretty much," I said and I couldn't hide the small smile that was making its way across my face.

"Huh," she said, "That's really interesting. Don't you think that's interesting, Sebastian? That she's living here now?"

He glared at her so hard I thought he might injure her with just his gaze.

She mock-gasped, dramatically covering her mouth with her hand, "Oh... wait. Are you two _together_ now?"

She was teasing him, and I couldn't help but silently laugh. He looked really, really, really irritated, and embarrassed. Eliza's teasing didn't phase me in the slightest. Of all people, she would be understanding. Sebastian obviously didn't see it that way.

Sebastian didn't deny it though, and that simple fact made my heart leap into my throat at the prospect that he could actually be considering that.

"Well, I'd say it was about time, but it'd be way overdue," Eliza said, apparently also interpreting his silence as a yes.

"That's enough," he said, voice sharp and serious, but she just smiled.

I silently thanked Eliza for being honest, and pushing Sebastian to be honest. I tried to tell her that, with my expression. I wondered if her teasing would get through to him. We did need to have a talk about this.

I got up from the couch, and was surprised when Sebastian instantly followed me into the hall.

"I would tell you to make yourself at home," he called to her over his shoulder, "but I see you are already headed towards the fridge so I will not waste the breath."

"What?" she called back, defensive, "You stock the best blood in the city!"

He shook his head and grumbled.

I hesitated outside my door, Sebastian at my heels. What was he doing?

"Your burn?" he said, correctly reading my confused expression.

"Oh," I said quietly, twisting the doorknob open, "right."

We entered my room, and Sebastian shut the door behind him. I swallowed. Why had I agreed to this again? Because he'd asked nicely. I eyed him, wondering if he'd done it on purpose to make me feel obligated.

I just took the shirt off this time, figuring I might as well. I was going to have to take it off to shower anyway.

I tossed it to the floor, feeling less embarrassed than I felt I probably should be about being shirtless in front of him for the second time in less than 48 hours.

I peeled off the gauze covering my burn mark with a careful, slow hand.

He nodded at it, looking relieved, "Dominic did well."

I glanced down at the burn wound. It did look a lot better. It was healing much faster now, just a scab. I remembered the burn cream Dominic had given me and dug it out of my pocket. The box was a bit smashed, but it would be fine. I would have to remember to put some on after my shower.

"Has anybody found Jenibelle yet?" I asked, and he grimaced. He looked like this was the very last thing he wanted to talk about.

"No," he said quietly.

I nodded, biting my lip, "I know about the blood hunt you called."

He met my gaze, reading it, trying to figure out if I was going to argue about it or what. I didn't intend to, though I did feel pretty weary about the whole thing. I couldn't figure out Jenibelle's motivation, expect to make him angry. That put me on edge.

"Do you have any other insane exes I should know about? Anyone else that might come and try to barbeque me?"

Sebastian frowned, thinking a moment, and I gave him a look of desperation. He had to _think_ about it?

"No," he said, "None that I can recall."

Well, they hadn't raped him in his sleep, I thought. Not with all those bodyguards. He would surely remember if he'd had other relationships.

Then again, the guy was like 200 years old and pretty attractive. Maybe he'd had other conquests, way back in the day, before he had a chance to fully develop his _charming_ personality that would scare off even the most persistent of them.

Except me. He hadn't scared me off. Though, to be fair, he did scare me.

* * *

><p>AN: Sorry this is so short. Nothing happens either, I know. At this rate, this story is going to have a million chapters. I need to start putting more in each chapter. Anyway, hope you folks were somewhat entertained. Thanks to everyone who has favorited and/or reviewed my crappy fanfiction!


	13. Obsession

I took my cold shower, which helped my hangover some, easing the headache at my temple. After I was done showering, I put some of that cream on my burn scab. It smelled nasty, medicinal, but dealing with the smell was worth it if it could help reduce the scarring. I hoped it would.

I dug slacks out of the magical dresser that always had clothing in it that was always the right size. We were going to another meeting, apparently, and I figured I might as well look half decent. I put on a white button-up shirt too and put my hair up into a ponytail. I looked like a barista or a server at a restaurant or something, but at least I looked professional.

After I was done prettifying myself, Eliza and I talked a while. I told her about the dream I'd had, the one where I had died, and she listened, enraptured, just as Sebastian had said she would.

She recounted to me the story of how Sebastian had told her about the 'die in your sleep you die in real life' superstition as a child, and I was too polite to interrupt her to tell her I'd already heard it.

The entire time, I could tell she was itching to talk about what had happened last night between her brother and I. Because Sebastian had deemed the two of us too irresponsible to be alone together, he would not allow us out of the penthouse, we couldn't talk about it.

He sat in the office with the door wide open the entire time we talked, allowing us no privacy. He couldn't see us because the wall was in the way, but I could hear the shuffling of papers, and click of keys on a laptop, so he could definitely hear us.

I was kind of glad because I didn't know what to say to Eliza about it anyway. My first intuition told me to lie, I don't know why. I liked Eliza, and I didn't necessarily want to lie to her, nor did I really feel the need to. I guess it's just a coping mechanism for me when I don't know what to say to somebody.

Eventually Eliza got the message that Sebastian was silently sending her from the next room, and she left. She didn't look sad about it or anything, just resigned.

Before she exited the penthouse, while we were standing in the entryway, Eliza softly asked if I still had the phone Sebastian had given me.

I nodded. Sebastian didn't ask for the cell phone he'd given me back. He had either forgotten to take it back, or intended for me to keep it. It didn't look like the usual throw-away cell phones he provided me with, and he wasn't the type to just leave loose ends, so I suspected it was permanent. I had been faithfully carrying it around with me since he'd given it to me.

I gave it to her, and she programmed her phone number into it. She told me to text her.

After she left, the living room was silent and I didn't really know what to do with myself so I wandered into Sebastian's office. He had changed his suit into another suit, which looked exactly like his old one, except almost imperceptibly lighter. That I noticed such a minute difference in his suits really says something about how much I stared at him.

I had never spent more than a few minutes in that room, and Sebastian looked busy, so I took my time looking around.

The office was nice. Nothing like the old one, of course, but it had expensive stuff similar to the old one. There was a very basic desk, basic though it still probably cost more than everything I owned combined, where Sebastian sat in front of his computer. On the desk was some office stuff. It was stuff I would have expected, a phone, office supplies, paper.

Other than that, there was another wall devoted to a bookshelf full of books. I wondered why I had even bothered going to a library before. If I'd had known about this room, I wouldn't have.

I walked around, reading some of the titles. It was mostly non fiction. Most were books about war, history, weapons, biographies. That kind of thing. Some of them looked old, the binding worn at the edges. At least half of it was in French. I couldn't figure out what any of that was.

By the time I figured out that Lacroix was watching me, I had walked the entire expanse of the wall, browsing over his reading selections.

"Can you teach me French?" I asked.

Sebastian blinked at me. I guess that wasn't what he thought I was going to say, or maybe I had interrupted whatever he had planned to say. Either way, it took a few seconds for him to get his bearings.

"Of course," he said finally, "I had no idea that you were interested."

He stood from the desk, shutting the laptop closed, and loomed closer to me. I tried not to back up when he came within a foot of me. He still had that effect on me, wanting him closer and further away at the same time.

"Your first lesson," he said, "a simple phrase."

He leaned down, close to my ear and said something in French that I didn't recognize. He didn't quite whisper it, but he came close. His voice was low and enunciated, and he used it as an excuse to stand really close to me.

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"That is your first assignment," he said, "Report back to me when you have thoroughly puzzled over it."

I held back of scoff of frustration, "I'm not going to remember all of that."

He repeated the phrase again, voice husky against my ear and I tried to focus on memorizing it and not the feeling of his lips so close to my skin.

The syllables themselves seemed nearly erotic, he was saying them so sultry and low. I wondered if he'd said something inappropriate to me in French. I figured he would find that pretty funny. It seemed like something he would do for kicks.

I repeated the phrase back to him, choppy and Americanized, and I felt him nodd.

"That is correct," he said.

When he straightened back up, and looked at me, he had a little smile plastered on his face. He turned away, briefly, and plucked a book off the shelves behind him. He handed it out to me, and I looked at the worn cover.

"French to English Dictionary" I read aloud, taking it from him.

Well, that made things marginally easier. Now if I could only figure out how to spell any of the shit he'd said.

"Thanks," I said, my voice kind of flat and sarcastic, but he only nodded.

* * *

><p>A parade of black, expensive looking cars slid down the streets of Hollywood. Any vampiric passerby could easily guess who was in them. It was hardly inconspicuous, but we had so many guys with guns trailing us, that we needed nearly five cars to transport anyone anymore.<p>

I looked out the bulletproof windows at the buildings as we passed them. Porn shops, strip joints, trash everywhere. Hollywood was depraved.

I glanced at Sebastian seated beside me, wondering if he'd ever frequented a strip club, and choking on the surge of jealousy that came with that thought.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he said, the sarcasm heavy in his voice. He'd been watching me look out the window at the buildings, and must have caught my disgusted look.

"I'm sorry about the sheriff," I said.

Sebastian looked at me, alarmed, like I'd just slapped him in the face or something. I quickly looked back out the window.

The asphalt on the streets was dark and shiny, like it had rained earlier. I watched it rush past the car in a blur.

"The sheriff has paid the debt he owed to me," Sebastian said finally, his voice solemn, "Though I must say, we are hardly even."

I thought about that for a while, and decided not to ask about the debt. The issue seemed to be a sensitive one, and I'd felt I broke some kind of etiquette by saying anything about it at all. I knew that though the two almost never spoke, Sebastian was sure to appreciate his years of service at the very least. Maybe they had even become friends.

"The sheriff was very powerful. That is why I chose him for the job," Sebastian said, voice thoughtful, "Not many vampires could have killed him. Even ambushed alone by the anarchs in Las Vegas, I doubt he would have too difficult a time."

"You don't think it was the anarchs at all," I said.

Sebastian didn't say anything more about it. Who could have killed the sheriff if not the anarchs? I was sure he had someone looking into it. I hoped they would find something out.

We sat in relative silence the rest of the ride, and I tried to keep my mind off the man sitting next to me by watching the asphalt speed past.

* * *

><p>Call me whatever you want, a traitor or whatever, but when I saw the state that Matthias was in when he returned, well, I smiled. He had gotten his <em>shit<em> kicked in and I was pretty sure which one of the anarchs had done it.

He limped in, half his face blown off. The muscle under his right cheek twitched, clearly visible between the tears in his skin. I figured he probably got the taste of a few shotgun blasts to the head. Probably even almost died for the amount of damage he'd been dealt to still be healing now.

He was alone this time. None of his cronies had joined him, and I wondered if maybe some of them had been killed. For a minute, I thought maybe the Anarchs had won this one.

But then he thunked something down on the table, something round, with a face. It was an angry face, even in death. The head of Damsel.

The grisly remains of the woman's head left a large, widening pool of blood that shone as bright as the polished table. Bone from her spinal column jutted out beneath her throat, as if he had literally snapped it in half. It was one of the most perverse things I had ever seen. I felt sick. I quickly looked away from her wide, white eyes.

"There are only three of them left," Matthias said.

I closed my eyes, trying to will away the image of Damsel's head burned into my brain. Only three anarchs left in the entire city. I felt a steady, cold hand on my shoulder.

"You've done well, my friend," Sebastian said to Matthias, otherwise ignoring my reaction, "I do not have to guess at which of them remain."

"Yes," Matthias said, "The most powerful of them, the leaders of the movement, all escaped. They fought with their sheep. I will give them that. They left no one to die alone."

"They would," I heard Sebastian say above me.

I took a deep, hard breath. This was _horrible_. They were talking about this as if it was something mundane, amusing even. It was revolting.

"Maybe they'll make a deal with you now. Or surrender or something," I said, trying to keep a steady voice.

I looked up, carefully avoiding looking at the table where the head lay. Sebastian was standing close to me, the leg of his pants nearly touching me. I looked right into his eyes, pleading with my expression.

He gave me a small, pained smile, "No Juliet," he said quietly, "They will fight until their deaths. You surely know this."

I looked away from Sebastian's face to the monstrous, unsympathetic expression on Matthias'. The two men were looking at me as though I needed to be institutionalized or something.

Matthias didn't smile. He looked scarier, now that part of his face had been removed.

"Why do you put up with this?" he asked Sebastian, "She can't stomach the sight of death. It's pathetic."

"Go fuck yourself," I bit out, looking down again at the floor. Sebastian's grip tightened on my shoulder. I grimaced, remembering my promise not to be a bitch. Oh well, too late now.

He laughed, a humorless, dry laugh, "Now _that's_ what I suspect is the reason that Sebastian keeps you around. Do you like being his little whore huh? Would he share, do you think?"

I looked back up at Matthias, glaring, "Not if yours was the last dick on earth."

Sebastian Lacroix's face was priceless when I glanced up at it. If I could take a picture of it at that moment, I would have. His mouth was open, and his face was scrunched up in a confused, disturbed expression.

"I will not tolerate this ..._obscenity_ in my meeting room. Matthias, for all intents and purposes, Juliet is my childe, not my prostitute. You insult both of us to imply otherwise."

Matthias' face momentarily slackened, in shock I guess. He squinted at me hard. His expression was one of utter disbelief.

"She is_ not _your childe," he argued quietly. He didn't remove his gaze from me. Beneath the lacerations across his face, his eyes were dark.

I stared back at him, just as hard. How did he know?

"_For all intents and purposes,_" Sebastian repeated, voice strained with irritation, "she is. She will take my place upon my final death as Prince of this domain."

"Allow me to extend my grandest apologies for any misunderstanding." he said, in a steady, monotone voice. His gaze finally left mine, jumping to Sebastians, "I will instruct my highest general to work for you while we are here as a replacement sheriff."

Matthias didn't look very sorry. His face and voice was completely deadpan serious, devoid of all feeling.

"I do hope you both accept my sincerest apologies. You know my malkavian tendencies get out of control at times," he added.

"Of course," Sebastian said, mildly, "That is very generous of you."

I couldn't believe Sebastian was buying this crap. I swallowed, gripping the edge of the table as though it could ground me, but with Damsel's accusing eyes, rolled to the back of her head, I didn't feel very grounded.

* * *

><p>I followed Sebastian out of the meeting room, nearly running to keep up with his pace.<p>

"You have to try to negotiate with the anarchs."

"No I don't," he growled at me over his shoulder.

"You're going to look like a monster if you don't. People are going to say that you overstepped your bounds as Prince. I'm already half convinced, and I'm..."

He stopped, abruptly turning around to face me, and I barely managed not to collide into him. His face was twisted into an angry scowl.

"I know that on a personal level you and I have had some …" he struggled to find the right word, "changes," he finally decided, "take place, but I will not tolerate you speaking to me as though I am not the Prince of Los Angeles. Adjust your tone immediately."

I opened my mouth, and then closed it again.

"I'm sorry," I said, "But this is _insane_. You just practically committed genocide on all of the Brujah in this city."

"We are at war!" he shouted, and his voice echoed over the entire expanse of the hallway. I flinched away. I had never heard him sound so emotional and raw in such a public place before.

"Okay," I said quickly, voice hardly a whisper, "I know."

I thought he might deck me or something, he looked so pissed off. I winced when his hand came up, but he only ran it through his hair.

Sebastian looked at my hunched state and seemed to realize his anger was getting out of control. He took a deep breath and tried to compose himself.

"They will fear me," he said, much more calm, "and fear is power."

My gut twisted at his words. Sebastian Lacroix was _obsessed_ with power. His eyes dazzled with it- the same maniacal gleam that the sarcophagus had brought forth in him. He was dangling over the ledge of sanity, and his rope was steadily slipping. It was nothing new, but the look on his face still scared me.

"Respect is more powerful." I hedged, "No one will respect you if you kill all the anarchs without even _trying_ to reconcile with them."

Sebastian seemed to consider my words, his narrowed blue eyes searching my face. I don't know what he was looking for, but he must have found it because he said, "I will consider it."

He turned and began clipping along again. He didn't wait for me to catch up, just turned the corner and disappeared.

I sighed, put a hand to my heart. It beat hard and fast under my skin from the confrontation. I must be out of my mind, I thought, to be in love with someone like Sebastian Lacroix.

I wondered if there was someone else I could talk to that had written a book or gotten turned into a vampire, maybe the wife of Stalin or Hitler or something, someone else that I could relate to. Well, I supposed, Jenibelle would probably understand.

And then it hit me, as my fingers brushed over the burn, what Jenibelle had meant when she had branded me right over the heart. I was her replacement, she had said.

I stared hard at the wall in front of me. But things were different now, weren't they? Sebastian had a temper but he hadn't hurt me, not really. And he had _listened_ to me just now.

I shook my head. I didn't know what it was that attracted me to Sebastian Lacroix. I had never met anyone so fucked up in my entire life. I picked at the little mask he wore over his true emotions, day in and day out, and the more it cracked open, the more I felt addicted to what I saw underneath. Maybe I wanted to fix Sebastian, I don't know.

My hand drifted away from my heart, away from the burn wound. I couldn't just stand here and think about this all night. Sebastian was surely down at the car by now, and it wouldn't help my argument or his mood if I kept him waiting.

I quickly began walking the way Sebastian had left, but was surprised to find him standing there, just around the corner. I nearly bumped into him for the second time that night.

I stared into his hard, blue eyes.

"You cannot be left by yourself," he ground out, looking moody.

I nodded, remembering our conversation about it. For all the fighting I had done, I found myself glad that Sebastian had the foresight to not leave me in the hallway alone.

Matthias was still in that meeting room and I was positive that he wanted to, well, fuck me or kill me. Or maybe both at the same time because that was probably what got him off.

We made our way back to the black cars and the armed guards, shrouded in silence. It was back to the Penthouse until the next horrible meeting. I was beginning to really hate them.

* * *

><p>AN: Sorry for all you Damsel fans out there. She was sacrificed for a greater cause, as Lacroix might say.

Update 6/25: Sorry for the lack of new stuff from me. I'm moving out of my apartment this month so I've been super busy. The voices in my head that tell me what to write have been silent, plotting my demise or whatever it is they do when I can't hear them. Of course they can't do that at convenient time like when finals roll around. Ahem. Anyway, thanks for your patience!


	14. The Eye of the Storm

The difficult questions of the last round massacre, as they called it, steadily trickled in around us. Phone call after phone call came to the penthouse and Sebastian put them all on speakerphone, sitting in his office, throwing a determined, grim look my way.

They came for days, and the days blurred together.

The voices echoed in my head each subsequent night. The voices of sect leaders, of people I knew and didn't know. Of primogen. Of the newly embraced. Of everyone. Accusing, angry, cold, their voices burnt little holes in me and I felt that guilt would rip me in two, as Sebastian surely knew it would.

Sebastian answered their questions and concerns with an impatient honesty that sometimes made me flinch. Sometimes I desperately wanted to apologize on his behalf. I sat in his office and listened to them and translated his French message to me, and for a few days we stayed like that in the eye of the storm.

When I was finished translating what he'd said to me the day before in French, I didn't say anything about it. He'd said, roughly: 'I allowed you to stay because I do not like who I would become without you.' Sebastian must have known I'd finished translating the message because he watched me put the dictionary back on its shelf. He didn't say anything about it either.

* * *

><p>A bath. There's nothing in the world like a warm bath. Slick porcelain at my back, cradling my head at just the right angle. Warm water I'd painstakingly heated over the biggest propane camping stove available at the 24 hour walmart, inch by shallow inch. It hardly went up to my abdomen, but I'd missed warm baths so much, even this small luxury was worth the extreme amount of effort it took.<p>

Sure, I'd had to call Mercurio to procure the stove for me, and pay him a good amount of money to drop it off in the penthouse while we were away. And yes, I'd been in here for nearly an hour just heating a couple gallons of water. The water would cool in far less time than it took to heat it. Sebastian probably thought I was in there slitting my wrists or something. But it was all worth it. I was happy for just a few minutes.

I slid down to the bottom of the tub, dunking my head in where the water fell just above my ears. When I pulled my head back up, my hair was heavy and slick, and I found when I opened my eyes that I was not entirely alone in the bathroom anymore.

"Fucking shit!" I said. I quickly covered up what little I could manage with my arms, flailing like a splashing duck. Then I realized Lacroix wasn't looking at me. He wasn't even facing me. I tried to relax. Deep, steady, hyperventilating breaths.

I saw Lacroix's shoulder's hunch in surprise to my outburst, and in the mirror, his face grimaced. At least he had the decency to not stare while he usurped my basic right to privacy.

"I brought you a towel," he said, quiet and apologetic, "I planned to leave it outside the door but you failed to answer me."

I glanced at the empty towel rack next to the tub and sighed. It was a nice thought. A peace offering.

"My head was under water," I explained shakily. The bathroom made us sound louder and I found that my panic echoed.

He nodded his understanding, looking a bit afraid.

I stood up. The water was cooling rapidly anyway and it wasn't like I was going to be able to relax after_ that. _I tried not to think about it- that I was standing naked in a bathroom with Sebastian Lacroix.

"Here," Sebastian said, shoving the white fluffy towel behind his back, and turning his head towards the door, away from the mirror.

I took it from him and quickly wrapped it around myself.

"Alright," I said, "I'm decent."

He muttered under his breath, but turned around anyway.

His expression was pretty funny. He couldn't meet my gaze, which was something I'd almost never seen from him.

"I apologize," he said to my breasts.

I pressed my lips together, trying not to laugh. I wondered if he had engineered this entire situation on purpose. He looked so incredibly subdued though, I figured he was probably honestly sorry. Probably.

"It's fine," I said, "Thanks for the towel."

He nodded and looked down at the propane heater a bit suspiciously.

"It heats water," I explained, figuring he probably had never been camping in his entire, long, privileged life.

He rose his eyebrows, surprised, "You... do know that there is a hot tub in this building, correct?"

A slow grin lit up my face as I processed his words. A hot tub in this old fashioned place? "Really?" I asked, and he met my interested gaze.

"Some of the newer tenants demanded it be put in along with a swimming pool, and I ultimately allowed it to quiet their lamenting," he shook his head, clearly irritated at the memory, "Would you like me to arrange for security to allow you access after hours tonight? I'm certain they would comply."

"Please do," I said.

He nodded and swiftly left the bathroom.

* * *

><p>Sans bathing suit, I put on the least sleazy bra I had and the least sleazy underwear and threw a tee shirt over the whole thing. It was the best I could come up with.<p>

I found Sebastian still fully clothed in his study. I knocked lightly on the half-open door and he immediately looked up from his laptop.

"It is all arranged," he said, "Several armed guards will stand outside."

"Wait... you aren't coming?"

He opened his mouth as though he wanted to say 'duh' or 'that's completely inappropriate' or some other snoody Lacroix response, but then he just closed it.

He looked at me as though I had just asked him if he'd be interested in punching himself in the face, or something along those lines.

"You _expected _me to come downstairs and sit in a hot tub with you?"

I shrugged, feeling my face get hot at his incredulous expression, "Yeah," I said, "Why not?"

He looked at my scantily dressed body as though that were the exact reason right there, but didn't say anything else.

Okay, I could think of a hundred good reasons why not too, but even if Lacroix didn't get_ into_ the hot tub, I figured at least I'd have somebody to talk to. If he had the courage to go into the bathroom when he knew I was taking a bath naked, I could hardly see why he couldn't go downstairs with me while I was somewhat dressed.

I was about to say that to him, but before I could, he stood up from the desk.

"I suppose there would be no use staying here in any case. It would be difficult to concentrate on anything else," he said, looking pointedly at my bare legs.

I swallowed. What the hell had I gotten myself into?

* * *

><p>I could tell right away that Sebastian Lacroix had never been in a hot tub. First of all, I'd never met anyone who'd been in a hot tub and afterwards had said they didn't like it. For some reason he was convinced that he wouldn't. I wondered if maybe he thought it was supposed to be an actual bathtub.<p>

Secondly, he looked at it as though it might swallow him whole, or burn him or cook his insides or something stupid like that.

I couldn't believe he hadn't been in a hot tub. Seriously, I knew he worked a lot, but this was ridiculous. He was rich! Rich people like hot tubs, right?

We stood in the elevator together, rather uncomfortably. Me, pretty much naked. Him, pretty much looking anywhere but at me. Classical music softly played in the background. I was trying to convince myself that this was a good idea.

Sebastian and I met up with the guards in the lobby, and the hodgepodge group headed to an area of the building I'd never been to before, just around the corner from the front desk. It was a room encased in opaque blue-green frosted glass. Inside, there was a decent sized indoor swimming pool and tucked away in the corner was a hot tub fit for at least five people.

I hesitated before stripping off the tee shirt. I didn't want Lacroix to feel awkward but at the same time, I really wanted to keep the shirt dry so I'd have something that wouldn't cling to me like a second skin as I walked through the hallways on the way back. Thankfully the security guards had stayed outside the door, but every guard out there was male.

So, with a wince, I took my shirt off, leaving only a bra and my underwear. When I looked over my shoulder at Sebastian's expression, he had his eyebrows raised at me. I quickly looked away.

I sunk down into the bubbling, heated water with a hiss, and I could feel Lacroix's gaze as it followed.

I could feel all the tension melting out of my body with the water jets. This was a high end model too, with digital temperature control and waterjets. My eyes drifted shut.

There was a clipping noise close to my ear and I realized Sebastian had stepped closer to me.

"Allow me to revoke some of the stress of the past few nights that I feel are entirely my doing," he said, voice echoing slightly in the room.

I opened my eyes and was about to ask him what he meant by that but his fingers were suddenly on my shoulders, and he was giving me the best shoulder massage I'd ever had.

I promptly forgot what I was going to ask him about as he kneaded at my muscles with careful, practiced hands.

"Ugh God. You're good at that," I said, closing my eyes again, "It's cause you're French, isn't it?"

"Hmm," Sebastian said, sounding amused, "A lost art, but not purely French."

"But the French practically invented fucking."

His hands momentarily paused in surprise- at the language or the comment, I wasn't sure- and my head momentarily cleared.

"Oh uh, I didn't mean that-" I tried to explain, but he started gently kneading the muscles at the base of my neck again and I groaned instead.

"You are right of course. What else would a massage be good for if not good foreplay?"

I flushed red.

"But that is not what I intended with this particular one. If that were the case, I think you'd find my hands would not be where they are now."

He was right. They were on my shoulders, my neck, my back, and although the massage exuded sensuality, there was nothing inappropriate about it.

"They might dip lower, as if by accident at first," he said, low and close to my ear. He brushed his fingers over my collar bone. Then down over the gentle swell of the tops of my breasts, hardly visible over the bra. My breath hitched in my throat.

"I might begin kissing you," he said, and pressed his lips plainly on the crook of my neck.

I exhaled, but was unable to do much else.

"You would definitely know that I intended more than a backrub," he said, voice low beside my ear.

I felt a small pin prick of pain across my upper back, and the ghost of Sebastian's lips. His fangs, leaving what I imagined was probably a very light scratch. He licked at it, and I knew it was bleeding. My stomach tightened into a single knot as I felt his tongue on my skin.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" he sighed against me, breath cool on the heated skin of my neck.

"Very," I whispered.

"Would you like me to stop?"

"No."

He made a sound like an amused scoff. "I cannot say_ I _feel comfortable continuing what we have started. Not here."

I nearly pleaded with him. Nearly. But then I thought of the guards stationed right outside the door, and knew it would be embarrassing enough being as unclothed as I was. There was no need to add to that the sounds of Sebastian and I doing R rated things.

Instead I tried to relax again, but with Sebastian's gaze burning a hole in my back, I found it impossible. I knew he wouldn't join me in the hot tub. My heart sped up a little at the thought of us going upstairs together alone and I couldn't tell if I was more thrilled or scared.

* * *

><p>AN: Excuse this for being ridiculously late. No, I haven't jumped off a cliff or given up writing for some kind of 3 month long lent or anything like that. I've just been very overtaxed on time lately. Hoping things start to look better for a while cuz this story is distracting the hell outta me!


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